


Controlled by the Devil

by swimmiNgDiNosauR



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt, Hydra, Infiltration, Lies, Mind Control, Pretending, S.H.I.E.L.D., body control
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-02-07 00:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 53,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12829185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimmiNgDiNosauR/pseuds/swimmiNgDiNosauR
Summary: ~ Everything is going to hell. There are explosions everywhere. And standing in the middle of it is Alexander Pierce. Melinda May approaches him, her gun aimed at his chest. She motions for Coulson to run over and he goes to snap a pair of handcuff around the traitor's hands, but he puts his hand up which is covered in something that looks a lot like Stark's Iron Man hand and blows Coulson back at least twenty feet. ~Alexander Pierce slips a thin metal bracelet onto Melinda's wrist and uses it to control her. Her team doesn't realise until she aims a gun at Phil Coulson and pulls the trigger.





	1. Screw you, Alexander Pierce

**Author's Note:**

> The italic parts of the story are from Melinda's perspective about being trapped inside her mind. Just a heads up. (Just not for the video footage in chapter 6)

Everything is going to hell. There are explosions everywhere. And standing in the middle of it is Alexander Pierce. Melinda May approaches him, her gun aimed at his chest. She motions for Coulson to run over and he goes to snap a pair of handcuff around the traitor's hands.  Pierce puts his hand up which  is covered in something that looks a lot like Stark's Iron Man hand and blows Coulson back at least twenty feet . He doesn’t get up.  Melinda is about to pull the trigger but then her team  is brought to her, struggling in the grips of Centipede soldiers . She hesitates.

“If you pull that trigger, one of them will jump in front of me and the rest will kill your team. They won’t kill you, so you can suffer the pain of knowing it was all your fault that your team died.  However , if you drop the gun, they won’t  be killed ,” Pierce says  pleasantly , looking too much like he’s inviting her over for a cup of tea and biscuits .

Melinda glares at him. Her eyes flicker over to her team. Daisy is trying to maintain an indifferent expression. Her chin trembles when Melinda looks at her and she swallows. FitzSimmons are holding hands, the Centipede soldiers allowing it for now. Bobbi is glaring at Pierce. Hunter is struggling too much to be of any use.

“Let them go,” she says.

Pierce smiles  indulgently . She supposes he thinks she’s going to drop the gun. Well. He can dream.

“Let them go,” she repeats. “Let them go and I will go instead.”

“May, no,” Daisy protests.

“Daisy,” she says  firmly . She looks at Pierce. “Let them go now, or I’ll blow your brain to bits before you can say Hail Hydra.”

Pierce looks impressed. “You think you’re in still control.”

She doesn’t. She knows she’s got about as much control over this situation as a mouse in a cat’s mouth. She raises her chin  defiantly and aims her gun again. An explosion sounds nearby and she ducks instinctively. Pierce doesn’t move an inch, standing  confidently in the minefield.

“Let them go.” Her voice is  barely a whisper.

“No,” Pierce says and the voice he says it in makes her want to scream and stamp her feet.

She drops her gun. More like throws it,  really , but she is no longer holding it so it hardly matters.

“Kick it to me,” he orders.

She clenches her fists but kicks it  harshly over to him. It goes skidding past him, into the feet of a new soldier. Her mouth tastes of ash when she sees who it is. Grant Ward. Her face hardens and she glares at him. He picks up the gun and tucks it into his waistband. She hopes it goes off and fires a bullet into his butt.

Pierce tsks. He folds his arms. “Turn around.”

Melinda glowers. She forces herself to turn around. She hears the footsteps of a soldier come up behind her.

“Hands together.”

She brings her hands together in front of her. Pierce waits her out. She waits longer. Finally, he sighs and says,” Behind your back.”

She complies and the soldier locks handcuffs around her wrists.

“Walk to the van and wait.”

“Let them go first,” she says.  She can still  easily run and if she runs then the Centipede soldiers will likely run after her, if they’re not smart enough to shoot her team first .

Pierce rolls his eyes. “Let them go,” he says.

Her team  is released and they all move away. Bobbi runs off to get Coulson which she is grateful for and then gets them all into the SHIELD SUV they came in. Pierce dismisses the Centipede soldiers and walks towards Melinda. She hears the SUV take off. She explodes into action, kicking Pierce’s legs out from under him and ducking under Ward’s fists. She elbows him in the gut and knees him in the face when he bends down. She breaks his nose. Pierce stands up  shakily and she kicks his face in, breaking his jaw and knocking a tooth out. When Ward stands, she dodges him and shoves him into Pierce. Pierce is an  exceptionally poor fighter. She kicks him around for a bit, dealing with Ward when she needs to.

“Stop,” Ward says.

She ignores him until he grabs the collar of her jacket while she’s kneeing Pierce’s stomach and presses a gun against her head . She feels the cool metal and instinctively tries to move away from it.

“Behave,” Ward says.

She ducks when Pierce throws a punch at her face and he ends up hitting Ward. Ward breathes out  heavily and yanks her up.  He’s taller than her and he’s got more brute force so she’s left hanging  uncomfortably , her toes  barely brushing the concrete . She slips out of her jacket but it gets caught around her wrists. A gust of wind that she’s sure Hydra made blows her into Ward who steadies them, gripping her upper arms.

“Give me her wrists,” Pierce orders.

Ward spins Melinda around and offers him her wrists. Melinda bites down on Ward’s chest, making him swear and yank her head back by her hair. Her head stings and her eyes water. Ward unlocks the handcuffs and Pierce slides something onto her wrist. He brings it to his lips, forcing her to twist  awkwardly . When he’s done, they let her go and she tries to move, to kick both of them balls and hightail it out of there.  Instead, she finds herself standing still, her back straight, looking Pierce in the eyes without an ounce of hatred .

“Orders, sir?” she asks but it’s not her. She frowns and struggles to get past the mental barriers.

She’s a prisoner in her own mind. On the outside, her expression remains neutral, blank.  Inside,  however , she’s swearing and slamming herself again and again at the gates that are holding her back . It does no difference. When she stops, there’s not even a dent, a chip, a crack. It’s as if she never even tried. She growls and yells at Pierce but her outside expression doesn’t slip. It’s as if she never existed. She slumps back and wipes  furiously at her eyes.

“Infiltrate SHIELD. Go back to that team of yours. Pretend you escaped from me. Tell them I’m injured  badly and unlikely to make it back to full health. Every time you gain new information, call me using the untraceable phone in the cockpit. Don’t tell anyone what your new mission is,” Pierce tells her.

“No,” she tries to scream but she hears herself saying, “Yes, sir.”

She stands still as Ward punches her stomach. He makes her nose bleed and then steps back. She finds herself nodding  respectfully . She turns away and begins to run. She runs through the fire, burning her skin. It bubbles and blisters when she pokes at it on the other side but at least she’s through it.

She walks for days until she finds a lake. There’s a family on the other side, having a picnic. The parents turn their children away and the father comes over.

“Are you okay?” he asks, gesturing to her obvious wounds.

She nods, even though the pain is starting to get annoying. “Yes.”

“Are you sure? Because I can take you to the hospital if you need,” he offers.

“No. I’m fine,” she says. “Thank you.”

The father nods  uncertainly and goes back to his family, looking back at her over his shoulders.  She takes off her jacket and shoes and steps into the lake, relishing the way the cool water takes away the sting of her burning skin . She submerges and doesn’t reappear until a few minutes later, taking a deep breath.  She keeps herself afloat for a few minutes before swimming back over to the shore and shakes herself off like a dog . Picking up her jacket and putting her shoes back on, she keeps walking.

She tries to stop herself but it’s no good.  Eventually , she  just lets the person controlling her walk. She walks nonstop for three days until she gets to the Hub. When she sees where she’s going, she tries  frantically to turn herself around. Nothing happens.

She panics. She can’t be here. She’ll hurt people and she can’t hurt any more people. She can’t. She refuses. So when she can’t stop walking she plants her feet  firmly and shoves with all her might. She grunts and takes a small step forward.  Her hands slip around the iron bars of the gate and she  is pushed back but she’s pleased to see herself falter, even if it's only  slightly .

She’s rushed away to Medical.  She sighs as she realises that she’s going to have to sit through a torturous round of idiot trying to tell her what’s wrong with her when she already knows . The Agent May on the outside sits and stands when asked and answers all the questions. When a nervous doctor tells her she’s going to have to stay the night, please, she nods  pleasantly and sits down on the bed. Melinda seethes.  She doesn’t want to stay the night, not when it will end with her staying another night and another until they’re sure they can’t get any more nights from her without a nasty result .

A nice looking lady rubs cream on her blistering cream and for a few moments, it takes away the pain.  The lady asks Melinda to take off her shirt if she can and if not, they can cut it off anyway so it doesn’t  really matter if she can’t .

Melinda tries anyway, but the burnt skin on her torso sticks to her shirt and she has to bite back a groan of pain. She grimaces and lets her shirt flop back down.  The lady smiles  sympathetically and goes off to fetch scissors and a burn cream that helps remove clothing from burnt skin . It doesn’t help much, the cream. Melinda grits her teeth and steels herself as the nice lady pulls off her shirt  gently . A few pieces of skin get pulled off too.

The lady wets a towel with plastic covering and lays it over Melinda. Melinda lets out a mental sigh of relief as the cold water in the towel soothes her burning skin. She lays on the bed like that for some time until the towel starts to heat up. She pushes it off and it lands with a dull thump on the floor.

Melinda is glad at least that the person controlling her has some regard for her well-being. It’s a relief and a good thing to know.

The next few days are boring. Maria visits on the fourth day.  She talks a bit and senses that something about Melinda is off because Melinda hasn’t even suggested that she help get her out .

Melinda wonders if the person controlling her knows her. If they know that she likes to stand on rugs bare-foot and curl her toes because she likes the feel of it.  If they know she hates coffee because of a childhood incident in which she spilt a boiling jug all over a rich man’s lap and he beat her for it until her mom stepped in . If they know that she’ll do anything to save her team. Even if it means killing herself to protect them from this monster that’s not her.

“Well, I’ll see you next time,” Maria says and stands, ready to leave.

“Want to get me out of here?” Melinda asks.

There it is, Maria thinks in relief. She was almost about to pull her gun out and aim it at Melinda. Maria smirks. “You wish, Mel,” she grins. “See ya.”

Melinda nods and rolls her eyes. “Figures you wouldn’t help me escape. You never liked me,” she complains.

Melinda frowns. Since when did the person controlling her know she was dramatic and liked to escape from Medical. She  nearly loses it when she hears a voice in her head.

‘I can hear your thoughts, Agent May.’

The voice sounds  distinctly like Pierce. She scowls. Of course, outside her is laying down  calmly , waiting to  be let out. Inside her is raging and spitting fire like a dragon. When Maria leaves she tries her hardest to call for her to come back, to tell her that it’s not her.  Naturally , all that happens is she gets pushed back a little further.

‘All that will happen is you will  be trapped for longer and longer. Come to my old office and I’ll give you new orders then.’

Melinda snorts and sends him a get real thought.

When she’s released from Medical, she finds herself heading towards Pierce’s old office. It’s unoccupied and Pierce is sitting on the chair, waiting.

“What are my orders, sir?” she hears herself say and she gags. Even in real life, she would never be so respectful. It’s  just not her.

“Tell Coulson you’re at the Hub and you escaped. When he takes you back with him, poke around but do it  discretely ,” he says.

“Yes sir,” she says and then snaps a salute,  just because it feels right.

Pierce smirks and lets her leave.  She swipes an agent’s cell phone out of their pocket while they’re talking to another agent and dials Coulson’s number . He picks up almost immediately.

“Coulson?” she says.

“Melinda?” he says, relief obvious in his voice. “Oh, thank God. How’d you escape?”

“He dismissed the Centipede soldiers so I kneed him in the face, shoved Ward to the ground and ran,” she says.

Coulson chuckles. “Typical. We’re headed towards the Hub now. Where are you?”

“The Hub,” she replies.

She can hear Coulson’s smile over the phone. “We got lucky for once.”

Melinda snorts. “You  just jinxed us.”

“ Probably ,” he says. “We’ll be there in an hour.”

Don't come, she wants to scream. She needs to tell him that she isn't Melinda anymore. That she's trapped inside her own mind. That she'll betray them again.

She hangs up and goes to the waiting room in Medical.

Melinda thrashes  violently in her binds. She’s well and  truly trapped, a victim of her own body. She had tried so hard to tell Phil she wasn’t her, that she was a danger.  The iron gate keeping her from taking control of her actions and words has solidified, becoming a concrete wall, too high to climb and too thick to break . She bruises her fists against the wall, the skin of her knuckles peeling off.

Melinda greets Coulson with a nod. She assumes the rest of them are still on the Zephyr. She follows after him.

“What happened to you?” he asks, gesturing to her burnt skin.

“I ran through the fire to get away from him,” Melinda says.

“Of course you did. Are there any creams Medical gave you? Painkillers?” he asks because she hasn’t got any on her and she  probably should.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. They said I  was cleared to go and I left as fast as possible.”

Coulson frowns. She doesn’t usually do that. Usually, she’ll wait for them to tell her what she is and isn’t allowed to do and if she has any prescriptions she has to take.

“I know, it was stupid, but I’d already been there for like, three days,” she says.

Still, something doesn’t fit right. He feels uncertain like there is something under his nose that’s off but he doesn’t know what it is. “Are you okay, Melinda?”

Melinda sighs in relief. ‘C’mon, Phil,’ she urges.  ‘Keep asking.’ She decides to push against the wall again because now seems like the perfect opportunity . She ignores whatever crap her mouth is speaking and focuses herself. She runs at the wall and shoves at it with everything she has. It doesn’t budge.

“Everyone’s waiting for us. Let’s go,” Coulson says.

“Agent May!” a medic calls out, running up with a white paper bag. “Wait!” When the medic has caught up with them, he says, “We’ve been trying to find you. There are burn creams inside that will help take away the pain and stop the risk of infection. Also painkillers, for when you don’t need the cream.”

Coulson takes them when Melinda wrinkles her nose. He thanks the medic and they walk towards the hangar.

On the Zephyr, Melinda  is surrounded by her team.  They wince at her wounds and cheer when she tells them Pierce has enough injuries to  probably not be able to survive .

‘Get away from me!’ Melinda yells. ‘I’m dangerous. I could kill you at any minute and I wouldn’t hold back.’ She watches, crouched next to the wall barricading her in.  Daisy hugs her  carefully and the asshole controlling her makes her hug her back, albeit  cautiously .

Melinda retires to the cockpit when they’re all satisfied with what she’s told them, sitting in silence with Davis . She feels a pounding in her head and curses the Melinda trapped inside her. Of course, the trapped Melinda cannot know this, so she pretends nothing is wrong.

In the morning, they stand around Daisy’s computer whilst she tries to trace Ward with any mobile calls or computer access with his login . She knows he’s too smart for it but it doesn't stop her trying. The people crowding around her is off-putting. Her shoulders tense when she hears Coulson turn around again in his pacing.

“A.C. I swear to God, if you don’t stop pacing I will cut off your legs,” she threatens. “Fitz, can you quit your tapping and Jemma, stop thinking, it’s driving me insane.” She realises she sounds nuts but she couldn’t care less at this point.

FitzSimmons make their exit, looking back at her  just before they open the door.  Coulson takes a seat for five minutes, concentrates on keeping himself still and then leaves as well . Only May stays. Melinda rests her hand on Daisy’s shoulder and sits down next to her, close enough that they’re touching.

“You OK?” she asks.

‘Don't answer,’ Melinda pleads. ‘Stand up and move away from me.’ Daisy doesn’t move. Of course she doesn’t.  Melinda can only watch in despair as she starts talking, telling Pierce valuable information on what they know and how they’re tracking Ward .

“No,” Daisy admits. “Ward isn’t showing up on any of these screens.  I’m trying to run a tracer through internet cafes and stuff but it isn’t working and if he is using the cafes, he’s hiding his position well enough that I can’t find him .”

Melinda nods. “Okay. But that wasn’t what I asked.”

Daisy’s shoulders tense as Melinda  carefully wraps her arm around her. After a while, Daisy leans into her touch.

“I guess, I  just think we’re looking at it all wrong.  We should have people out there on the ground, trying to spot him, not using a damn tracer that isn’t working because if we  eventually get a hit, he might not even be there .” Daisy lets herself rant, comfortable with telling Melinda everything. She lets it slip that she’s working on another project that’s making her antsy and snappish.

Melinda scoops everything up and tries to memorize it. Later, when she’s alone by herself in the cockpit, she uses the untraceable phone and relays it all to Pierce. He sounds cross when she talks to him his words, short and crisp.

“Any new orders, sir?” she asks  quietly .

“When you’re done infiltrating them, kill them,” he says.

Melinda freezes. No. She can’t. Her breathing quickens and she pushes  frantically against the wall in terror. ‘No, no,’ she mutters, heaving with all her might. ‘C’mon,  just an inch,’ she gasps. The wall pushes her back again and she sits back on her haunches and wipes her eyes  furiously .

‘I will not kill my team,’ she vows.


	2. Nice try

It’s been two weeks since she has boarded the Zephyr and infiltrated HQ and no one has guessed. Melinda feels quite proud of herself. The only thing that bothers her is the headaches she gets when the other Melinda tries to escape her head.

_Melinda throws herself again and again at the wall. In two weeks, it has grown stronger and taller and thicker. She’s trapped in a square about a metre wide and a metre long. She’s tried climbing out by pressing her back against one wall and walking her feet up the wall opposite her but her hands slipped and she fell back down every time she tried it. Now, she’s trying to put her feet on one wall and her hands on another and push with all her might. The walls budge barely a millimetre but Melinda counts it as a success._

Melinda sits up in her bed when someone knocks on the door, quickly deleting all the tabs and shutting the computer down before hiding it under her bed. “Come in,” she calls, shoving the covers off her and standing up.

Daisy pokes her head in nervously. “Um, I got a hit. Coulson wants us all to come to the rec room,” she says.

Melinda nods and follows Daisy out, all too suddenly aware that she’s wearing baggy sweatpants and Coulson’s Captain America T-shirt that Melinda stole, back when she was a cadet. She wishes she had time to go back and change but it sounds pretty urgent, whatever it is. She doesn’t feel anything when she sees Coulson wearing Captain America pyjamas but she feels like the Melinda she’s trapped would make a joke. So she nudges him and gives him a smirk. He just raises his eyebrows at her pyjama top. It’s a valid point that she isn’t going to concede.

_Melinda hates that Pierce is laughing and joking with Coulson while they wait for everyone else to get their lazy asses up, pretending to be her. She tries to send her disgust to him but she’s not certain if it’s worked or not until he replies._

_‘I’m in control here, Melinda. You have no way to get out or communicate with anyone in any way that I don’t allow.’_

_She sends him a picture of his dead body rotting at the bottom of the ocean._

_‘Nice try.’_

_He’s infuriating and Melinda wants to kill him even more. Unfortunately, he’s right._

“I got a hit on Ward,” Daisy says and Melinda perks up unnoticeably. Finally, some telling how they’ve been finding him. “He’s apparently in an apartment a few blocks away from a rest home in Mankato, Minnesota. It’s kinda odd but, you know,” she shrugs.

“How’d you find him?” Melinda asks.

“He used a phone booth to call Pierce and I managed to grab hold of it. It was kind of hit and miss but then I pulled up a CCTV camera recording and was able to confirm it was him,” Daisy explains.

“We’re leaving in twenty. Get whatever you need and don’t be late. If you see him, shoot to injure,” Coulson says, adjourning the meeting.

Melinda gets ready in five minutes, hurrying to the cockpit to call Pierce.

“They know where Ward is. We’re coming to find you in fifteen minutes,” she relays to him when he picks up.

“I’ll let him know then,” Pierce says. “I’ll be there too. Come and find me when you’re in so I can upgrade your bracelet.”

“Yes, sir.” She hangs up.

 

She lands the plane in the back fields of a farm. The owner comes rushing out, waving his rifle furiously. Hunter shoots him with an ICER and they tie him up and chuck him in his basement.

Coulson hails a cab and they climb in, Bobbi and Hunter hiding in the boot. Daisy and FitzSimmons sit on top of each other and Melinda and Coulson do the same in the front. Mack tries to make himself as small as possible, with Elena sitting on his lap. The cab driver raises her eyebrows but puts her foot on the gas and takes off.

Forty minutes later, they’ve split up, in groups of two or three, disguised as tourists. Daisy has bright red hair and FitzSimmons have switched their cardigans and sensible shoes and pants for leather jackets and dark sunglasses. Daisy takes a picture. Coulson and Melinda dress colourfully, in reds and blues and yellows. Bobbi and Hunter don’t do much to disguise themselves. They’ll be out in the shadows for the most part, anyway, and bright red hair doesn’t do much to help them blend in. Elena and Mack put on sunglasses and declare themselves disguised.

“Meet at the Glenwood cemetery if things get ugly,” Coulson says before they split up.

Ward watches them cruise around, going into shops and cafes. FitzSimmons are the first to enter the apartment. Melinda and Coulson, he can’t find but there was a woman in bright reds and blues that was about her height. She didn’t have a man next to her, though. He stands ready beside the door, pressed flat against the wall when he spots Bobbi. She's not really disguised. Hunter is too easy. He saunters in, looking all the part as a rich kid spending his holiday with his dad. There are two more agent-looking people he doesn't recognise but he's fairly sure they're with Coulson.

 

Melinda ditches Coulson under the guise of going to scout the building for any threats. She finds Pierce on the third floor, eighth room from the elevator. He lets her in and asks her to stand still for five minutes.

He bends down and ties her ankles together and then her wrists, knees and elbows. Then he takes the bracelet off. She blinks a few times, trying to clear her mind. He goes to slip the upgraded bracelet on but she jumps backwards. He catches her arm and pulls her back to him. She goes to scream but he muffles it with his hand and slides the bracelet on quickly. Melinda shudders but when she stands up straight, he knows that he’s got his puppet back.

_Melinda charges at the wall but as the bracelet has been upgraded, so has the barrier. Instead of concrete, it’s now solid lead. She’ll break her hand if she punches it. It lets out a dim glow, lighting up the area. For the first time, she can see the ground. It’s red and squelchy, kind of like the inside o her head would be, but it isn’t wet._

He unties her and kicks her out of his room. She ducks into another room as Coulson comes out of the elevator. She turns around and stares at a couple who were watching a movie until she barged in.

“Sorry, wrong room,” she apologises but she doesn’t go to leave.

“Then why are you still here?” the woman asks.

“I’m just leaving now,” she says.

“Get out, then,” the man says.

Coulson must have passed by now so she exits the room. The hallway is clear. She finds Ward’s room easily enough. It’s on the second floor, third from the elevator and fifth from the stairs. When she opens the door, he steps out and aims his gun at her. His shoulders sag.

“May. It’s you,” he says.

_‘You traitor,’ she growls._

“Yeah. The team is also here so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say stuff like that,” she says quietly.

She looks behind her as FitzSimmons come into the room. Both of them pull out ICER's when they see Ward. Hunter is next, then Coulson, then Elena and Mack, then Bobbi who actually had been scouting the apartment and surrounding area for Hydra agents.

“We need to go,” she says breathlessly. “It’s a trap. The place is swarming with agents.” Then she sees Ward. “Oh.”

Hunter grabs hold of her arm.

“Come on in. Shut the door behind you,” he says.

They don’t move.

Ward pulls the trigger and Simmons clutches Fitz’s shoulder. The bullet digs itself into her leg. She presses her hand against it and breathes heavily through her nose.

_‘Bastard,’ Melinda growls._

Melinda slams the door shut. They all look at her in surprise, figuring that she’d be the last person to give in to Ward.

“I see only May has any brains,” Ward says before he shoots Fitz’s arm. His gun has a silencer but the low whine still has Ward frowning. Elena zooms forward and takes his gun before he can shoot anyone else.

_Melinda almost throws up in her mouth. Because she told Pierce they were coming to capture Ward, Fitz and Simmons have gotten injured._

The whole place is being swamped with enemy agents before they can do anything. They stand in a circle, FitzSimmons in the middle. Simmons falls to the ground and Fitz goes with her, supporting her. Fitz draws his ICER and shoots Ward with it through a gap in his team. Ward barely ducks. His eyes darken.

“I should have shot you through the glass,” he snarls.

Fitz’s breathing hitches.

“Don’t talk to him,” Coulson says. “You don’t deserve to talk to him.”

“I’ll talk to whoever I like, old man,” Ward says.

“Whomever,” Coulson corrects.

Melinda kicks his shin. “Hey. Shut up,” she hisses quietly.

_Melinda rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah, that’s right, Phil. Let’s go and correct the evil psychopath when we’re losing.’_

Coulson moves into action and he grabs a gun, flicking the safety off,  _hard_ , and shooting three Hydra agents in the head. Sadly, it’s only an ICER. The ICER doesn’t have a silencer and there are screams. He supports Fitz and Simmons, an arm around their waists. He quickly runs out of the room and disappears down the stairs. Bobbi runs after him because she has a biology degree. Hunter and Melinda glance at each other and quickly start packing up all the weapons into a black backpack full of tourist souvenirs. Once the Hydra agents are unconscious, they lock the door and open the window. Hunter slings the backpack on and jumps, grabbing wildly at the tree he’s aiming for. It sags under his weight but holds him and he climbs down. Melinda follows him but with a lot more grace, swinging agilely to each branch, beating him to the footpath.

Checking for anyone watching, Hunter and Melinda start jogging to get to the cemetery faster. When they reach the cemetery, Bobbi’s hands are red but Fitz and Simmons are sitting up and talk. Coulson calls two cabs and in ten minutes, they’re all piling into the cabs.

After fifty minutes of sitting around doing nothing, they’re back at the farm. They wait until the cabs pull away before entering the farm. The owner is still out cold when Melinda goes to untie him. She leaves him in the basement though, so he can drag himself up the stairs with a killer headache when he wakes.

 

The Zephyr’s engines flatten the grass. She puts the cloaking device on as soon as they’re in the air and sits back. It had been a good mission. Now, she knows that if she is to get rid of them, she will have to tell Ward more information and tell him to get to a remote place before letting Daisy get a hit on him.

Coulson comes into the cockpit just as they fly over the border of Minnesota and Wisconsin. He leans against the seats, a habit that has always made the trapped Melinda want to stop the plane suddenly so he goes flying through the window and teach him a lesson but the plane is not a car.

“It was a trap,” he says.

“I know.”

“How did they know we were coming?”

Here comes the bit Melinda has dreaded. Having to comfort him when she has caused his pain. She doesn’t answer for a while. “Maybe there were agents surrounding the place all the time in case we came.”

Coulson doesn’t answer. She can tell he doesn’t agree. It was a bad mission but they can’t change it. Two of their agents got injured and they didn’t even get Ward.

_Her fault. At least Jemma and Leo – Simmons and Fitz – were okay for the most part. She clenches her fists so hard her nails break the skin._

“It’s my fault,” he says. “I should have known.”

“You can’t know something that no one else knew,” Melinda says.

He sighs and looks at her. “I guess you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” she says, a small smirk on her lips.

Coulson gives her a confused look. She hasn’t said what she usually says. Why hadn’t she said, “You’d better believe it,” with a grin and a nudge?

“What’s wrong?” she asks, mentally swearing. Stuffed up again.

He shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s fine.”

She nods, unconvinced. “Well, I’m here if you need me.”

He gives her a smile. “Thanks, May.”

She frowns at his back. What’s with the last name basis? When he’s gone, she goes back to the phone, dials Pierce's number and waits.

“How are they?” Pierce asks when he picks up.

“Alive.”

“Any information?”

“Tell Ward to get to a remote place and then let Daisy get an accidental hit on him. We can take them down when they’re there,” Melinda says.

“Good job. I think he’s got a safe house somewhere in the country,” Pierce says. “I’ll let you know in your next update.”

Melinda hangs up.

_'No, please, no' Melinda yells. 'Don't do this to them!'_


	3. App

A week and a half later, when FitzSimmons are up and about, Simmons limping slightly, Skye lets out a yell of excitement and runs up the steps in the cargo bay, ditching Melinda. Melinda just stands there, slightly confused until Coulson calls for a team meeting.

“Ward’s in Montgomery, Alabama,” Skye says. “We’ll need to go in more carefully but he’s definitely there.”

“Everyone is wearing kevlar,” Coulson says. “No arguments.”

No one argues.

 

Melinda lands the Zephyr with the nose of the plane barely a metre away from the farmhouse. Coulson figures that the element of surprise is already gone so what’s the point of walking more than they need to. She hadn’t argued, although she'd thought if they were going to land a couple of millimetres away from the farmhouse, they may as well have landed on top of it.

Ward comes running out of the house, ducking behind a tractor when Bobbi and Hunter fire at him through already smashed windows. He fires back but they just wait until he's out of bullets and is reloading, shooting through the tractor. Ward retreats and Bobbi and Hunter high five before heading to the cargo bay where the ramp is opening. They shoot at Ward but then have to fall back because there’s a hell of a lot of trucks zooming towards the Zephyr.

“May! Close the ramp!” Bobbi yells as the trucks suddenly have Hydra agents firing at them.

Melinda fires back at them, missing all of them but she has to try, right? Then she runs back to the cockpit and waits roughly three minutes before starting to bring the ramp up. She stops it halfway through and runs back to them.

“It’s stuck, I can’t get it any further,” she tells them.

Bobbi swears and jumps out, firing wildly. She shoots down one truck. Hunter lobs a grenade at them and two trucks explode but it doesn’t matter. They’re surrounded. Ward orders the snipers to wait. Hunter throws another grenade and then jumps back into the safety of the Zephyr when he gets fired at. Bobbi follows him.

“So nice of you all to come visit,” Ward says. “Morse, Hunter, throw those guns over here.”

“Get real,” Bobbi snorts.

Ward gives a signal to his snipers and they fire. Bobbi throws herself at her team and knocks them to the floor. Hunter ducks behind a box of ammunition.

“Thow your guns over here!” Ward yells. “All of you!”

Bobbi and Coulson exchange glances. Hunter chucks his gun at Ward’s feet. Bobbi eventually does the same and Skye follows her lead. Coulson scowls but he does the same. Ward stops the snipers.

“Come out with your hands where I can see them,” Ward says.

Coulson stands up and his team follow his lead. “Does the ramp go down?” he asks Melinda.

_‘Yes.’_

“I don’t know. It just wouldn’t go up any further when I tried,” she says.

“Go see if it will go down.”

Melinda nods. She lowers the ramp and they walk out with their hands in the air. Ward locks eyes with Melinda. Melinda glares at him for the sake of pretence.

Ward locks handcuffs around everyone’s wrists. He orders them inside. The room he shuts them in is small with a cage. There is a small window. It’s high up in the wall and barred. When they’re inside, he shoves them into a cage. It’s fairly small. They’re shoulder to shoulder. Coulson looks at the ground. It’s another failed mission.

They’re left in the cage for a day. Ward comes in when it’s dark outside. The room has bad lights. Ward unlocks the cage and grabs Melinda’s wrist. She kicks him to keep up the act. He slams her head against the wall and she crumples. Skye cries out and rushes forward but Ward slams the cage door shut and locks it before she can get out. He drags Melinda out of the room.

_Melinda fights against the wall. Whatever leverage she might have had is gone. Now there is a roof over top of the four walls keeping her in. The ground is getting more solid every second. She can see the roof coming down. She’s got to get out before it squashes her._

_The air she’s breathing seems more poisonous. She inhales and then collapses to the ground, choking. She’s shaking. Her hands tremble when she presses them against the wall in a last-ditch attempt to free herself._

Ward brings Melinda to another room. It has a few wooden boxes in the corner. At about waist height for the average person, there are rungs, a metre and a half apart. Ward splashes water over Melinda’s face. She bolts upright, eyes wide, taking in her surroundings. When she sees him she relaxes.

“Any more new?” he asks.

“Skye is working on something important. I’ll have to stay with them longer to figure out what it is,” Melinda says.

“Have you been getting any headaches recently? Something that would let you know if she’s trying to escape?” Ward leans against the wall and watches her. He has the power here.

“Occasionally. Nothing I can’t handle. You should let her out so she can scream for help and then punch her. Let her escape and get the others. Fire after them but miss. Just to make it look believable,” Melinda suggests, wringing water out of her hair.

The door opens and they both look over. Pierce comes in. He’s dressed in an ironed suit and shiny shoes. He smiles at Melinda and she smiles back.

“Hello, my dear,” he greets. “How are you?”

“Good. They still don’t suspect anything so I can go back and get more information,” Melinda says.

Pierce nods but his eyes stay on her lips. Melinda shuffles nervously.

“Good girl,” he says. He strides forward and kisses her. She gasps in surprise, eyes wide. When he steps back, she’s left floundering. “I hope you didn’t think I wouldn’t reward you for your efforts,” he says at her look.

_Melinda gags. Disgusting._

Melinda nods. “Thank you, sir.” She bows her head.

“I have a new bracelet for you, my dear. My scientists have been working on it. This will allow you to infiltrate them with no headaches from her,” Pierce says, smoothing down his suit.

Melinda nods, the corner of her lips quirking upwards. Pierce holds her gaze for a fraction too long.

“It’s a shame we don’t get to see that smile more often,” he says.

Melinda isn’t quite sure what to say. She settles for a quick, “Yes, sir.” Ward ties her wrists together, making sure that he can still get the bracelet on and off and then loops the rope through the rungs. He ties her feet together and then because of a conveniently placed pipe running down the wall, he ties the rope around her waist to the pipe. He takes the bracelet from her wrist and her eyes flash angrily, letting him know that the real Melinda is in charge now.

Melinda struggles futilely in her bonds, snarling at her captors. Pierce crouches beside her and tilts her head towards him. He captures her lips with his mouth. Melinda makes a noise of protest and presses herself flat against the wall. She tries to draw her head back but he just holds her in place. She bites him, hard. He draws back. She spits at him.

“You’re disgusting,” she growls.

“And you’re at my mercy,” he replies standing up. He hands Ward a box.

Ward holds Melinda’s wrist still and slides the bracelet on despite her struggling. Melinda stops struggling. She sits still and waits for her boss to take her restraints off.

_Melinda curls up in a ball. She can’t sit up without banging her head on the roof of her box. The walls are more solid, thicker and probably taller in case she gets past the roof. The ground she’s lying on is hard and uncomfortable. Loose rocks dig into her skin, leaving marks._

Ward punches her to make it look they’ve been torturing her. He drags a knife over her upper arm, cutting through the skin. Blood spills out, mixing with the leather of her vest. Melinda draws in a sharp breath. Ward breaks a few of her ribs and gives a bleeding nose before deeming her fit to go back to her team.

She runs back to her team as fast as she can but the pain in her arm and ribs is distracting. The keys are lying on the floor, out of reach for anyone inside the cage. She unlocks the door and then an alarm rings out. Coulson herds everyone towards the entrance. Hydra agents pour out of the house just as Melinda hauls herself into the plane. Bobbi flying. Melinda curses mentally. She should have damaged the ramp controls. Too late now. Her head spins before she can get everything under control.

_Serves you right, Melinda thinks. She sits up and bangs her head again. She places her feet against the wall and then pushes with her back against the opposite wall. The wall simply moves forward a few centimetres. She sucks in a deep breath and then regrets it as the poisonous air burns her lungs. She hacks and coughs until she falls asleep._

Jemma steers her towards the Med Bay. She resists slightly but one stern look from Jemma and she gives up. In the Med Bay, she lays on one of the beds without being asked and closes her eyes.

“May, you need to stay awake,” Jemma says, unzipping Melinda’s vest and carefully pulling it off.

Melinda sits up slowly and peels off her long-sleeved shirt so that Jemma can heal the scratch on her arm better. Jemma calls it a gash but Melinda just snorts and mumbles scratch under her breath. Once her torso is naked except for her sports bra, Melinda lays back down again. She knows that she should be staying awake so that when Jemma leaves, she can look around and see if there is anything important. Instead, she tries to sleep. Jemma keeps shaking her every time her eyes shut.

“You can’t sleep just yet, May,” Jemma says gently, wiping away the blood. She stitches the gash up.

Melinda grumbles. Her arm hurts. Screw Ward. Jemma wraps a bandage around the gash and then moves to Melinda’s ribs. She presses down on Melinda ribcage. Melinda winces and tries to move away. Her head pounds. When Jemma rubs in Arnica to keep the bruising away and accidentally presses too hard, she hisses in pain.

“Sorry,” Jemma apologises, placing an ice pack on Melinda’s ribs.

The ice pack is freezing and Melinda jerks at the contact. Jemma lifts the ice pack off and Melinda stops moving. She wraps it in a cloth and then places it back on Melinda’s ribs. It’s not as cold now.

“I’ll come back in a few hours to check on you,” Jemma says. “Just stay here and try and get some rest. We only have ibuprofen and you can’t have that for 48 hours so you’ll just have to use the ice pack to keep down any swelling.”

Melinda nods tiredly. Jemma leaves. She waits five minutes to be safe and then five more to be certain and then another minute to make sure she’s certain. She sits up. Her ribs protest her every movement.

She rummages around in Jemma’s draws trying to find anything that Pierce will need to know. All she finds is everyone’s medical files. Defeated, she goes back to the bed and closes her eyes.

About half an hour after she falls asleep, Coulson comes in. He sits next to her and takes her hand, drawing patterns with his thumb.

_Melinda glares at him. She’s been trying so hard to tell him that there’s something wrong and he’s just not listening._

Melinda wakes up just as Coulson goes to leave. She blinks away sleep and tries to call out to him but her mouth is dry. The door closes and she’s left alone. She sits up, wincing at her ribs. She stands carefully, breathing in and out gingerly.

She makes her way to the Bus kitchen, stopping off at her bunk to change into clean clothes. When she enters the kitchen, the whole team is there. Coulson’s trying to finish his coffee as quickly as possible. His face lights up when he sees her. Bobbi and Hunter are arguing in the seats by the windows. Fitz is eating a sandwich Jemma has made him. Skye and Jemma are the only ones actually eating at the table.

Melinda catches Jemma’s eye and looks away. She has to stand on tiptoes to reach the cupboard that holds the cups. Skye snickers. Melinda ignores her. She boils the jug and refuses to turn around to face Jemma. Her ribs hurt and Jemma will know.

_Melinda makes herself stand up. The roof presses down on her shoulders. She’s shaking with the effort. It’s hard not to suck in a deep breath but she knows that the air will eventually kill her. When more weight is added to the roof, Melinda gasps and the air stings her throat; it makes a fire in her body. She lets herself drop just a little but it’s all the roof needs. It forces her down. She collapses to the ground. The roof is squishing her. She screams._

Melinda drinks her tea and then tries to leave without a response from Jemma. Unfortunately, Jemma is faster than her attempt to leave the room.

“Aren’t you supposed to be resting?” Jemma asks.

Melinda blanks her expression before she turns around. “Yes.”

“Then why aren’t you?” Jemma stands up from the table and puts her plate in the dishwasher. She walks over to Melinda and stops about a metre away, folding her arms.

“I was hungry?” Melinda asks. Damn. She should have checked their bunks before coming here.

“I could have brought you food!” Jemma exclaims. “There’s a buzzer next to your bed.”

Melinda hadn’t actually known that but she doesn’t say anything. “I’m going to my bunk now,” she mumbles. She’s not, but Jemma doesn’t need to know that.

“I’ll go with you.” Jemma’s tone brokes no room for any arguments.

Melinda does her best not to scowl. From the raised eyebrow Jemma sends her way, she knows she’s not doing a very good job at it. They walk to Melinda’s bunk where Jemma gives Melinda strict instructions not to move. Melinda nods and lays down on her bed.

“Go easy on yourself, okay,” Jemma says.

Melinda nods. Jemma shuts the door when she leaves. Melinda waits twenty minutes and stands up to leave when she hears footsteps coming. She quickly lays back down on top of the covers and pretends to be asleep.

Coulson knocks on Melinda’s door. She doesn’t answer so he assumes she’s sleeping.

When Melinda is sure there is no one coming to see her, she sits up, listening carefully. She sneaks out of her bunk. She finds Coulson in the lab with FitzSimmons so she makes her way to his office. She searches through his desk and finds a file that she doesn’t recognise.

_Melinda tries to push herself off the ground but it’s futile. She’s not strong enough. She watches herself open the file that Coulson gave Skye._

Melinda smiles. She quickly takes a picture of it with her phone and then replaces it. She walks quickly back to her room where she sends the photos to Pierce and then deletes them. It’s a risk sending Pierce the photos on a traceable phone but she feels like her undercover work is almost over.

She climbs into her bed carefully, wincing as her ribs groan in pain. She falls asleep before she can pull the covers up to her chin.

Jemma comes in a little while later to make sure she’s actually in her bunk. She smiles and sits Melinda up a bit to take her jacket off. Melinda blinks up at her, half asleep.

 _Melinda pushes against the wall and it disappears._ “I’m sorry,” _she says just before the wall reappears._

Jemma thinks she’s talking about leaving the Med Bay. “It’s okay. Just try to get some rest. I’ll get you some aspirin for when you wake up.”

Melinda nods off with her head in Jemma’s lap. Jemma doesn’t have the heart to move her.

_Melinda scowls down at herself, sleeping in Jemma’s lap. She doesn’t deserve it. Not when she’s lying to them all._

Eventually, Jemma falls asleep too. She wakes up first and is slightly confused. Then she remembers she’s in Melinda’s bunk.

_Melinda can’t sleep. Not when she’s in so much pain from the roof still moving down. Every time she tries to push it up, she fails. She wonders why the wall disappeared when she pushed. Maybe because the person controlling her body was tired? She doesn’t know._

Melinda wakes up to someone stroking fingers through her hair. It feels nice. She knows she has to get back to her mission though. Maybe if she attempted to make a move on Coulson he’d let something slip. It’s worth a try. She tries to sit up but Jemma stands up and pushes her down gently with a warning look.

“Resting, remember,” Jemma says.

Melinda scowls. “Can I go see Coulson?” she asks.

Jemma thinks about it. “No, but I’ll see if I can get him to come here.”

Melinda waits twenty minutes before Coulson knocks on her door.

“Melinda?” he asks softly.

“Yeah,” she says, trying to sit up. Her ribs burn and she falls back down.

He opens the door and comes in quietly. “You okay?” He sits down on the bed beside her feet.

“I’m fine,” she says softly. She wishes he would come up and sit by her head so she could sleep. That would make him trust her more and then she would be one step closer to understanding why he needed Skye to build him an untraceable, unhackable – something that people don’t even know is there. She has a feeling it’s more to do with Hydra not knowing it’s there.

“Do you need anything?” he asks, resting his hand on her leg.

“No,” she says, although her ribs are kind of sore and her arm is throbbing. “I just wanted to see you,” she admits.

Coulson smiles and shakes his head. He stands up. “I’m going to go get my paperwork,” he says at her confused look. “I’ll do it here.” She smiles at him in delight and he has to leave quickly before he does something he’ll regret.

When he gets back, Melinda is sleeping on her back, duvet pulled up to her waist. He opens her bunk door and she stirs, opening her eyes and squinting.

“Hey,” he greets.

There isn’t much room for him to sit. Melinda moves her head to give him a bit more space. He sits down gently, moving her pillow slightly.

Sometime later, he realises that Melinda has snuggled up to him, her head against his hip and her hand touching his leg. He shifts his paperwork to the side and smiles. She’s actually very cute, not that he would ever say that to her for fear of losing limbs.

Melinda makes herself fall asleep in the hope that it will get him to trust her. If she can get him to trust her, she can get him to tell her why he needs Skye to design an app that will let him know when someone makes an E-mail, phone call, text message, etc.

She hopes he’s not onto her.

 

Coulson finishes half of his paperwork, signing things off and occasionally wondering why SHIELD recruits so many idiots that think putting toilet paper on the ceiling of the gym will stay up there for the night. He glances down at Melinda for a second and smiles. He doesn’t mean to, he only shuts his eyes for a moment but when he opens them again, Skye is taking a picture of them. He blinks and looks around. It’s morning.

Skye freezes when he looks at her. When he opens his mouth to ask if he can see the photo, she bolts. Coulson hides a smile. It’s nice to know he still has some authority. Melinda stirs and he helps her sit up. She smiles her thanks and rubs the sleep from her eyes. When she remembers what happened last night she looks down at her lap and he thinks he can see the slightest blush on her cheeks. He stands up and collects his paperwork into a tidy pile. Just before he leaves, he tilts her head up and kisses her forehead. He hears Skye’s squeal and swears. The tiny smile on Melinda’s lips is worth it, though.

When Coulson leaves, Melinda checks her room for bugs. She doesn’t think he would have put any in but just in case, she has to be sure. She finds none. It’s probably just paranoia getting to her. Her ribs stop her from doing a more thorough job.

She opens her computer and logs on. She skims through SHIELD files, logging in as different people until she finds what she looking for. It’s a small file labelled New App. She snorts. Even after all these years, Coulson is still terribly uncreative. She goes to open it but then everything goes black. She can feel the plane tipping down, nose first. She exits out of everything and logs out, slamming the lid of the computer before running out of her bunk and towards the cockpit. Luckily, it’s morning and there is light streaming in through the windows so she doesn’t run into any tables or walls on her way. She runs past her team who have gathered around Fitz. Bobbi joins her.

She slides into the pilot’s chair and desperately pulls the joystick up. The plane responds slightly and it takes all her effort to get them flying straight again. The gash on her arm screams at her but she ignores it. She can’t infiltrate them if they’re all lying dead at the bottom of the ocean.

She hears a bang and then swearing and assumes something has gone wrong with Fitz’s attempts to fix the power. Five minutes later, the lights come on and when she pulls the joystick up the plane listens instantly. She relaxes in her seat. Bobbi pats her shoulder and leaves her alone.

_Melinda can’t breathe. Her lungs are screaming at her, burning inside her chest. The roof of her box is pressing down on her. It’s too heavy. Her face is pressed into the ground. Her shoulders ache from holding one side of the roof up high enough so that her head won’t be crushed. She can’t feel her feet. She sucks in a deep breath and regrets it instantly. Even though it soothes her lungs, the poison makes her cough and hack. She takes another breath and waits for the fire to light up in her stomach. She winces when it happens. It feels like she’s being roasted alive._

_She knows she has to lift the roof. It’s the only way to get out of here. She struggles to lift her shoulders higher. She pushes her butt up and it costs her the height she had gained with her shoulders. She manages to get to her hands and knees, breathing heavily, tears streaming down her face. Just for a second, she lets her head drop and presses her hand against her stomach where she can feel the raging inferno._

Melinda doesn’t leave the cockpit. Mostly because she’s pretty sure she pulled the stitches on her arm and it’s giving her a headache. She eventually pulls up the sleeve of her black long-sleeved shirt and unwraps the bandage which has a red stain. She catches the blood with her hand before it can drip onto her. It spills out along her hands, running through the lines marking her hand as her own. She stands up carefully and makes her way to the bathroom without being seen. She turns the tap on and washes away the blood. She’s about to wrap the bandage back on but then the door opens and Jemma comes in.

“Skye said you were in here,” Jemma says with a disapproving glance at her arm. “Come on. I’ll stitch that up for you.”

Melinda follows the younger woman to the Med Bay. She wishes she had put shoes on as she’s two inches shorter and it’s bugging her. Usually, her boots put her at the same height. She sits on the edge of one of the beds and tries to stop the blood from dripping but it doesn’t do much good. Jemma turns around and sees Melinda cupping her hand underneath her arm to catch her blood.

“Don’t worry about that,” she says, “I’ll clean it up later.”

Melinda lets Jemma stitch up the gash that’s causing her much annoyance.

“Be gentle,” Jemma says when she’s finished.

Melinda nods and goes back to her bunk. She opens up her computer, logs in, brings up a SHIELD log in page and logs on as Phil Coulson. She skims through the file before sending it to Pierce on an untraceable e-mail. She reads it again and tries to understand why he wants it so badly.

**To: Skye ([hacktivist@gmail.com](mailto:hacktivist@gmail.com))**

**Subject: App**

**From: Phil Coulson ([pcoulson@shield.com](mailto:pcoulson@shield.com))**

**Can you create an untraceable app?**

**To: Phil Coulson ([pcoulson@shield.com](mailto:pcoulson@shield.com)) **

**Subject: App**

**From: Skye ([hacktivist@gmail.com](mailto:hacktivist@gmail.com))**

**Duh**

**To: Skye ([hacktivist@gmail.com](mailto:hacktivist@gmail.com))**

**Subject: App**

**From: Phil Coulson ([pcoulson@shield.com](mailto:pcoulson@shield.com))**

**Can you make an untraceable app that lets you knows who’s sending e-mails and what they’re saying?**

**To: Phil Coulson ([pcoulson@shield.com](mailto:pcoulson@shield.com))**

**Subject: App**

**From: Skye ([hacktivist@gmail.com](mailto:hacktivist@gmail.com))**

**How long do I have**

**To: Skye ([hacktivist@gmail.com](mailto:hacktivist@gmail.com))**

**Subject: App**

**From: Phil Coulson ([pcoulson@shield.com](mailto:pcoulson@shield.com))**

**As soon as possible**

Melinda frowns. There’s no reason to want an e-mail detector unless he doesn’t trust someone. She sighs. It’s no use just wondering. She’ll have to snoop around some more.


	4. Phil

Melinda swallows two ibuprofen tablets without water. Jemma takes the packet from her and puts it back in its container. They had landed at SHIELD HQ in New York almost a day after escaping from Ward. Bobbi had tried to come back with the quinjet cloaked but somehow Ward had sensed them and had fired a machine gun at them so she had been forced to turn them around.

She finds Coulson in a meeting room talking in hushed voices with Daisy. She catches a few words before they stop and look up. So they’re close to having it up and running, then. She’ll have to find a way to get past it.

“Are you busy?” Melinda asks, feigning innocence well enough that neither of them realise.

“Kind of,” Coulson says apologetically.

She nods and gives him a small smile. Just before she closes the door she hears Daisy’s teasing voice.

 

Melinda is sitting on her bed in her bunk going through SHIELD files looking for information that would be handy for Pierce when someone knocks on the door.

“Come in,” she calls, exiting out of everything and pulling up a google page.

Daisy enters her bunk excitedly and sits down next to her. Melinda closes the lid of her computer.

“So,” Daisy begins. “You and Coulson-”

“Are just friends,” Melinda interrupts firmly.

Daisy snorts. “Yeah right. Everyone knows you’ve got something stronger than that. You two can read each other’s minds. It’s kind of creepy, to be honest. There’s no way that you’re “just friends.” Absolutely not.”

“Well, I’m going to have to disappoint you and tell you there’s no love between us,” Melinda says.

“Who said anything about love?” Daisy asks. “Although, funny how I say you and Coulson and the first thing that comes to your mind is love.”

Melinda scowls at her. “If you’ve come here to tell me about my non-existent love life, then can you please go?”

Daisy rolls her eyes. “As you wish. But I’m telling you, you can’t keep denying it.” With that, she leaves Melinda’s bunk feeling very victorious.

Melinda sighs. She hasn’t come for love. She’s come to infiltrate.

 

Daisy finds Melinda in the cargo bay just before four in the morning. She hasn’t heard her yet so she sits and watches her S.O. hit the punching bag. After a while, Daisy notices Melinda’s fists aren’t wrapped and she is bleeding. Daisy pushes herself off the floor and runs over to Melinda.

“May, stop!” she yells.

Melinda turns to her and Daisy steps back. Melinda’s eyes are wild.

_Melinda has managed to push the roof off her body. The walls have disappeared. She hadn’t thought anyone else was awake or she would have told someone while she could. The fresh air has been wonderful and it had felt so good to hurt Pierce even if she was hurting herself. She can feel Pierce slipping back through her defences, controlling her again despite her protests._

_The roof lands heavily on her back. She stoops over and holds it. She’s like Atlas, the Greek Titan who was forced to hold the weight of the sky after losing the war against the gods._

_Only this time, she’s lost the war against herself._

“Daisy,” Melinda says, her walls slamming into place.

“Aren’t you supposed to be taking it easy with that arm?” Daisy asks, taking Melinda’s hands and examining them.

Melinda snatches her hands back. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Daisy passes Melinda her water bottle.

Melinda accepts it with a nod of thanks. She takes a long drink. “Do you want to spar?”

“No,” Daisy snaps. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine,” Melinda repeats, rolling her eyes. “Come on, I’ll be careful.” If she can spar with Daisy, she can get a grip on how Daisy fights which will be handy if she has to face off against the girl.

“No,” Daisy says again. “Let me help or I’ll tell Jemma.”

“You wouldn’t,” Melinda says, eyes narrowing.

“Wanna watch me?”

Melinda growls but shoves her hands towards Daisy.

Daisy smirks. “Thank you.”

Melinda makes a face at Daisy and hopes this is how the real Melinda usually acts when someone tries to help her. Daisy leads Melinda to the Med Bay where she washes off the blood and sticks multiple plasters over the cuts.

_Melinda doesn’t want Daisy to be cleaning her wounds. Not when they’ve been made on purpose. She grunts as the roof thickens. Her knees threaten to collapse from underneath her. The small box she’s trapped in is darkening. She can just see her hands._

Daisy drags Melinda to the kitchen and makes her a cup of tea. Melinda takes it with a nod of thanks. Daisy leans against the counter, crossing her arms. Melinda drinks her tea. She has a strange feeling she knows where this is going.

“Why didn’t you wrap your hands?” Daisy asks.

“What?” she says, mostly in shock but also to buy some time. She’d been expecting questions about why she was acting so strange, not why she wasn’t protecting herself.

Daisy raises her eyebrows. “You heard me. Why didn’t you wrap your hands?”

Melinda can’t think of an answer. Her brain has frozen. Daisy’s still looking at her, waiting.  “Uh…” She can’t think of anything. “I didn’t have any tape,” is what she finally blurts out in a panic. She’s not surprised when Daisy gives her a disbelieving look.

“Really?” Daisy says sarcastically.

Melinda nods. She’s sticking to this story, no matter how unbelievable it is. Daisy gives her a long hard look but she leaves Melinda in the kitchen. Melinda lets out a relieved breath and finishes her tea. She escapes from the kitchen to her bunk before Daisy can come back. Daisy can’t know. Crap. Why had she let the real Melinda come out for a bit? Stupid! She swears and punches the wall. Her hand stings but at least she hasn’t broken any bones. That would be even worse. She groans quietly so she doesn’t wake the others up and flops on her bed. She won’t let the real Melinda out again, she vows to herself.

_Melinda grins. Serve Pierce right, the lying bastard. Now Daisy will hound her, hopefully getting the truth out. Her grin quickly disappears as another layer adds to the walls closing in on her. In the beginning, she couldn’t see the far wall. Now she’s boxed in, barely able to crouch. Despite the weight, she standing up straight, arms shaking from holding the roof._

Melinda gets up to train Daisy at five, just like the real Melinda does. The girl is already there, waiting for her with a reproachful look. Melinda ignores it and gestures for her to join her doing tai chi. They fall into a tense silence. Melinda glances at her every so often, waiting for a comment about last night. Daisy catches her eye and she looks away quickly, moving to the next step smoothly.

When they’re done, Daisy chucks a roll of tape at her. Melinda catches it easily. She doesn’t look up at Daisy, hoping that this nervous, shameful act will work. She wraps her hands quickly and tries to give it back but Daisy won’t take it.

“You keep it, May,” she says. “For when you don’t have any tape.”

She’s being mocked and she knows it. “It’s none of your business, Daisy.”

Daisy just gives her a sad look. “I’m here when you’re ready to talk.”

 _Shit_. She should never have let the real Melinda out. Dumb, _stupid_ , foolish. She should have known better.

“Well, you’ll be waiting a long time, then,” Melinda says carelessly.

She’s not anticipating Daisy to attack her so if she stumbles backwards and gets pinned against the wall, well, maybe she should have been more careful. Daisy presses her forearm against Melinda’s throat. Her eyes narrow.

“Just because you’re so used to doing things alone, doesn’t mean you have to,” she says. “I trust you.”

 _Melinda’s shoulders slump. Of_ course _Daisy trusts her. Why can’t anything ever be easy? She grunts as her left foot slips on the mushy red ground. Even that’s solidifying. She falls to her knees, the roof resting on her shoulders. Deep breaths, she tells herself. She can’t see anything. It’s pitch black. She calms her heart rate, tells herself everything is the same as before, she just can’t see now._

Melinda slumps her shoulders. She drops her eyes to the floor and goes for a defeated look.

“I know,” she says. “I just – I … I’m sorry,” she mumbles. “I can’t – I – Ward.”

Daisy’s eyes soften. “When you’re ready,” she reassures her.

Melinda meets Daisy’s gaze and looks away quickly. She hopes that Daisy won’t see through her.

Daisy goes back to her tai chi mat and waits for Melinda to join her.

 

“Thank you,” Melinda says softly when they finish training.

Daisy beams. “Anytime.”

 

Melinda retreats to her bunk and shuts the door. She opens her laptop and skims through the e-mails she’s found from Daisy and Coulson. She tries to hack into Daisy’s laptop but she’s not good enough and she stops before Daisy gets an alert.

At midday, she goes to her bunk for an update from Pierce.

“Sir,” she greets.

“Are you getting any more information?” he asks.

“No, sir,” she says.

“Two more weeks, then you’re done,” he orders.

“Yes, sir,” she says. “Anything else?”

“I’ll give you an address in one week so when you kill them, you’ll know where to come,” he says.

“Yes, sir,” she says. “Anything else?”

“No.”

He hangs up.

She sits cross-legged on her bed for a little while, thinking.

_Melinda struggles to her knees. In the short space of time between the training room and the cockpit, she’s been forced to lay on the ground. She pants as she lifts herself up slowly. She makes her way to her feet after what feels like forever. Sweat runs down her face and the humid air just makes everything worse. Now that she’s standing, she can feel the ground shifting, scrunching as the walls move closer together. She loses her footing three times but she manages to stay standing._

_She won’t kill her team. She’ll get through this. She has to. She won’t betray her team’s trust like this._

_The wall presses against her back and forces her forward. She stumbles and bumps into the wall in front of her. She tries to go sideways but there’s a wall in her way. She lets out a choked cry, tears bubbling past her defences. Maybe she’ll be trapped here forever. She’ll never to get to tell Phil– No. Stop right there, brain. Go no further._

_‘Ready to give up?’ Pierce asks. It’s been ages since he last talked to her._

_‘Go to hell!’ she says, pleased that her voice didn’t tremble._

_‘Ah, that’s not the kind of language you want to be using when I’m in control of you,’ he says and Melinda can hear the humour._

_She swears at him until she can’t anymore. The roof has added weight while she’s been talking to Pierce. She goes through the Killers album in her head until she gets stuck with the words from_ Mr Brightside _. She gives up and goes through her album of memories with Phil. If she’s going to die, she may as well die thinking of Phil._

Melinda finds Coulson in his office. He’s talking with Daisy. They stop and look up when she comes in.

“Oh,” she says. “I’ll come back later.”

“Don’t worry,” Coulson says. “We need to tell you something.”

Melinda closes the door. “Okay.”

“We’re creating an app,” Daisy says. “It lets us see who’s e-mailing who. We can’t take any chances after Ward.”

“Okay,” Melinda says.

“That’s the cover, at least,” Coulson says. “We’re actually looking for any surviving SHIELD agents that are in hiding after Hydra came out.”

Melinda pretends to look interested. So that’s what they’re doing. Suddenly everything makes sense now.

“That’s a good idea. We’ll need everyone we can get. I can ask Clint and Nat if they know anyone like that if you want,” she offers.

“That’d be great, actually,” Coulson says.

She stays for the rest of the meeting. She finds out that Isabelle Hartley is coming in in a couple of weeks after she has rounded up a few strays of her own. She leaves under the excuse to call Natasha.

“Hey, Nat,” she greets when Natasha picks up.

“What’s up?” Natasha asks.

“Do you know any SHIELD agents under the radar?” she asks. “We’re looking for strays.”

“Not off the top of my head but I’ll get Barton to scout some out for you. I’m kind of busy at the moment,” she says.

“Okay, great, thanks,” Melinda says. “Take care.”

“You too.”

Melinda hangs up.

_Crap. This is getting worse and worse._


	5. One more day

Melinda calls Pierce the following day and tells him about Coulson and Daisy’s plan. He’s silent for a long while and she thinks he might have hung up for a minute before he talks.

“I need you back here soon and you’ve got everything that you can, I think. One more week. Call me in two days and I’ll give you my address.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The real May is becoming … hmm … how shall I put it? Ah, trapped, you could say. She’s in love with Agent Coulson,” Pierce tells her.

“I know, sir,” she says.

“Do you?”

“I’m using it to make him trust me,” she says. “It’s very handy. He would never have told me about the e-mail cover if he thought I would betray him.”

Pierce makes a noise of agreement and hangs up.

_Melinda shoves the roof up and while it’s not touching her hands, the walls disappear but they come back just as quickly. She pounds at the wall with her fists until her knuckles are bruised and bleeding. Her shoulders ache but her hands hurt more so she lets her shoulders bear the brunt of the roof. It’s not really a roof anymore. It’s more like a tonne of concrete pressing down on her. Except it’s not really concrete, either. It’s like a blend of concrete, iron and something else she can’t name. Maybe metal but she’s pretty sure that’s not very specific._

Melinda makes her way to the kitchen to grab a bite before she calls Romanoff back. Barton hasn’t found anyone but he’s still looking. At least, that’s what Melinda gets from it, what with Romanoff speaking in multiple different languages.

Coulson and Daisy meet again the next day. They don’t invite Melinda.

“Should we have told her?” Daisy asks. “She seemed kind of … I don’t know, weird.”

“Melinda would never betray me,” Coulson says confidently.

Daisy hums her agreement. “I know, just…”

“Your concern is nice but it’s okay,” Coulson reassure her. “I trust her.”

“That’s my concern,” Daisy says, leaning back in her chair. “Maybe you trust her too much.”

“She would never betray me,” Coulson says firmly. “Now, if we’re done here…”

Daisy takes the hint and gets up to leave. She pauses at the door. “I’m sorry if I … overstepped a line or something.”

Coulson nods. “It’s alright.”

Melinda listens to their conversation in her bunk through a bug that Coulson thankfully hasn’t found. She gets a call from Romanoff and thanks her and Barton for trying. No ex-SHIELD agents or current SHIELD agents hiding. Oh well. Fewer people for her to kill when she has to go.

 _Melinda takes a shuddering breath. She’s used to the burning air now, after so long. Her knees are bent and she can’t get herself to stand up straight. She squeezes her eyes shut as more tears leak out._ Pathetic _, she scolds herself. She takes the weight off her shoulders, lifting the slab of concrete with her hands. Her bruised and bloodied knuckles scrape the concrete and she hisses in pain._

Melinda presses a hand against her head as she makes her way to the training room. She doesn’t know _what_ the real Melinda is doing, but it’s damn annoying.

“Are you okay, May?” someone asks.

She jumps. She hadn’t heard Simmons approach.

“I’m fine,” she says, brushing off Simmons’ concerns.

“Are you sure? You didn’t hear me approach,” Simmons says worriedly.

“I’m fine,” Melinda reassures her.

Simmons gives her a disbelieving look. “If you say so.”

Melinda gives her a small smile and continues to the training room.

Two days later, she calls Pierce. He doesn’t pick up so she waits an hour and calls again. He doesn’t pick up that time either so she gives up and waits until midnight.

“What?” he snaps.

She pauses. “You said to call you two days later. It’s been two days.”

Pierce is silent, probably going over everything he’s said. He says something but she’s not listening. She can hear footsteps. Coulson. Crap. She hangs up and turns on her own phone.

“Bye, Mama,” she says as the door opens, pretending to press the red button. She turns off her phone and looks up. “Hey,” she greets.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says.

“Oh?” she teases. “Have you?”

He pokes her side and she can’t control the twitch. He smirks at her and she smirks in her head. Good to know that Melinda’s ticklish. Or at least, sensitive to touch along her right side.

“Yes,” he says, managing to look offended. “About us.”

She makes herself look serious. “Oh.”

They sit down on her bed

“So,” she encourages. “You thinking about us…”

He looks nervous. “I don’t… I don’t want to mess things up for us,” he says.

“We’d figure it out,” she smiles but she’s too nervous, thinking about messing it up to make it sound proper.

He seems glad that he’s not the only nervous one. He takes her hands and she looks at him in surprise.

“I–”

A yell cuts them off and they both stand immediately. Melinda looks at Coulson in what she hopes is an apologetic look.

“We’ll finish this another time,” she says.

He nods, looking like he’d like to say something. He squeezes her hand and they go to investigate.

Turns out they don’t have to. Daisy finds them on her way to waking everyone up. They gather in the meeting room and Daisy shows everyone what she’s found.

“There was a signal about five minutes ago. I’m not sure why, yet; I haven’t traced it back to its owner,” Daisy explains. “This is Ward’s hideout.”

Melinda curses internally. She gave away Pierce’s hideout. She’s going to be in _so_ much trouble. No wonder Pierce hadn’t picked up.

“What if it’s a trap, like the last times?” she asks cautiously. She doesn’t want to seem too eager for another option.

Daisy grins at her. “I thought of that so I googled the place but there’s nothing there for like, miles. I mean, the Sahara Desert. Seriously!” She snickers.

“It’s a good hiding spot, I guess,” Hunter says.

“Thank you,” Daisy says.

“We’ll check it out, Daisy,” Coulson assures her. “But in the morning when everyone is refreshed.”

Bobbi yawns at that moment, proving Coulson’s statement.

“Well, maybe Bobbi and Hunter shouldn’t stay up until outrageous times doing outrageous things,” Daisy says snarkily with a grin and Melinda can’t hide her snort.

Daisy beams at her, ducking when Bobbi swipes at her, a good-natured grin on her face.

“Good _night_ ,” Coulson says firmly.

Daisy nudges him on her way out. Everyone files out after her, including Melinda. Coulson calls her name and she turns around, a smirk on her face.

“Is now later?” she asks.

Coulson takes a deep breath, obviously bracing himself and then breathes out slowly. He takes her face in his hands and kisses her. She freezes. This was never part of any plan. She forces herself to move. When he pulls back he apologises over and over.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I just … had to do it once.”

She nods. “It’s okay. I…” She looks down and pretends for an embarrassed look.

He grins. “You liked it.”

“Shut up,” she mutters, mind thinking furiously. She must have said it too harshly because he’s instantly quiet. She looks up. He’s watching her with a worried look. “Sorry. I just…” She shrugs.

“I get it,” he says. “You’re just embarrassed.”

She hides her smile. He’s charming. She can see why the real Melinda likes him. She’ll have to tell Pierce that. Once she’s finished this mission, of course. She’ll try calling him again to let him know their coming.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she says, giving him one last kiss before leaving.

_Melinda kicks the wall in fury. Her foot screams at her. Well, great. Now she’s hurt her feet as well. The slab of concrete above her is getting heavier and she falls to her knees. The ground is rocky – from what, she has no idea – and she cuts her knees. Blood dribbles onto the ground around her, staining her jeans._

_She curses Phil in every language she knows. Why would he_ do _that? Her brain tells her exactly why and she tells it to shut up. She wipes away tears with her arms. It’s quite difficult but she doesn’t want to let the roof flatten her. Unfortunately, the roof gets heavier and her arms shake until she has to lower it gently onto her shoulders. Her head bends down uncomfortably._

Melinda doesn’t look at Coulson in the morning meeting. She asks all the right questions and leaves quickly when the meeting’s finished. She cloaks the Zephyr when they fly to the Sahara Desert and avoids Coulson for as long as possible. She watches all the video feeds to see if there’s anything she’s missed and is pleased and disappointed to find nothing. Pleased, because she hasn’t missed anything. Disappointed, because she’s already in trouble with Pierce and some more information might have gotten her back into his good books.

 _Melinda’s glad that fake Melinda is in some trouble. Finally. She coughs harshly, steadying herself by placing both hands on the ground. Her back is killing her. If she gets out of this –_ when _she corrects – she’s going to kill Pierce. And maybe Tahiti Phil. Yes, she thinks. That’s a good idea._

They land thirteen kilometres away from Ward’s base. Daisy grumbles until Bobbi tells her to shut up or she’ll find herself six feet under. Daisy mutters something rude under her breath one last time and Melinda raises her eyebrows. Elena whistles, smirking.

“Really now,” she says. “That was uncalled for.”

Daisy reddens but she holds Melinda gaze firmly. “Well, I’m not the–”

“And that’s enough of that,” Melinda interrupts, cursing herself for saying anything.

She feels Coulson eyes on her back and she manages not to turn around and look at him.

When they reach the base hours later, they scope it out, staying hidden all the time. Melinda offers to go in first mainly so she can warn Pierce. The others agree but she can feel Coulson’s concern radiating off him even though he doesn’t say anything. Her body wants to hug him but she refuses to. The real Melinda must love him.

She enters undetected, hiding in the back of a truck going into the compound. She jumps out and rolls underneath it as guards walk around to check there’s nothing suspicious inside it. It gets waved through and she clings to the underneath. When it rolls to a stop, she lets go and runs through the doors of the compound.

Right into the barrel of a gun.

She lets out a gasp, wincing and looks up. Pierce. His mouth is tight, jaw muscles clenched. She tries to back away but someone comes up behind her. She chances a glance back and her stomach coils. Ward. He grabs her upper arms.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Pierce hisses. “Calling me three times? When I didn’t pick up the first two times, you should have known something was wrong!”

Melinda flinches. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“You’re sorry?” Pierce exclaims. “Sorry isn’t good enough! You lead your team to my base!”

“They aren’t my team,” Melinda says quietly. “Sir,” she adds.

“What was that?” Pierce’s voice is dangerously low.

Melinda regrets speaking. “They aren’t my team, sir, but they’re waiting for my signal.”

Pierce’s lip curls. “Oh, no, of course not. But you’ve gotten very attached to one of them.”

Melinda’s eyes grow wide. _The kiss_.

Pierce chuckles. “Oh, yes, Melinda. Your bracelet lets me know everything.”

“I – It made him trust me, sir,” Melinda says.

Pierce just stares at her. Eventually, he says, “Tie her up.”

“Sir!” she protests. “Please. I tried. I’m sorry.”

Pierce nods to Ward who drags her unprotesting to a metal pipe where he handcuffs her and then ties a rope around her knees and stomach. Pierce takes her bracelet off and the real Melinda comes back.

She growls at Pierce, struggling to get free but all she does is cut her wrists. She’s too tired to do much, anyway, the concrete roof taking all her energy. Pierce simply watches her.

“What is the signal?” he asks.

She doesn’t answer, slumping in her ties. Ward drags her upright, slapping her across the cheek. She spits out blood.

“What is the signal?” Pierce asks again.

She doesn’t answer.

Pierce sighs. “I had hoped you would stay loyal to us even with the bracelet off but it seems I am wrong.”

Ward replaces the bracelet with a thin silver ring which he slides onto her pointer finger, even though she tries her hardest to stop him. She lets out a scream at the last moment but Pierce muffles the sound with a towel. Ward unties her and she stands stiffly to attention.

_Melinda beats against the walls that are sliding back into place. She braces herself for the roof and it crashes down upon her. She grunts, falling onto one knee. Her shoulders scream at her. She’s pretty sure she’s broken something._

Melinda stands to attention when Ward unties her.

“Sir?” she asks.

He just glares at her. “You’ve failed. Come back here when you’ve killed them.”

Melinda looks down in shame. “Yes, sir.”

“Go.”

She whistles loudly into her comm and waits. In thirty seconds, she hears a boom. Pierce gives her a warning look to which she replies with a salute.

“Melinda,” he growls.

“Yes, sir?”

“What have you done?”

“I gave the signal, sir,” she says. She's not sure what she's done wrong.

He glares at her. “Next time, tell me you’re going to blow up my base. Ward, get the chopper.” Ah. Perhaps she should have told him.

Ward nods and runs off.

Melinda joins up with her team who look concerned about her split lip and bruised cheek but leave her alone when she tells them they have more important work to do. Somewhere in the explosions, Melinda hears the chop, chop of the helicopter and shoot at it, just to keep up her act. She misses, the bullets going just under the skids but then the chopper is too high and she can’t get a clear shot with the smoke blocking her view.

They regroup about half a kilometre away from the base. Hunter is holding a couple of files. He passes them to Coulson who flips through them. He nods his thanks to Hunter. Everyone is tired, smokey and somewhat injured, even if they’re minor.

The walk back to the Zephyr takes longer than the walk from the Zephyr. Several hours later, they arrive at the plane. It’s uncloaked now. Melinda starts the engines and closes the ramp. The Zephyr takes to the air easily and they fly aimlessly, though in the direction of America.

Simmons pokes her head in and asks her to come down to the Med Bay for a check-up. Melinda growls after Simmons leaves but she puts the Zephyr on autopilot and makes her way to the Med Bay. Everyone else is there, waiting for Simmons to check them over.

Bobbi raises her eyebrows when Melinda comes in peacefully. “Well, well, well,” she grins. “Look who’s just made history.”

Coulson hides his smile. He remembers when they were cadets and Peggy Carter had to threaten Melinda with less field time to get her to go to the annual SHIELD medical check-ups.

Melinda makes a face at Bobbi and sits down beside Daisy and Mack.

Hunter jumps off the bed that Simmons is examing him on and beams. “Smoke-free and injury-free,” he exclaims, flinging his arms out. He hits his fingers on the wall and swears. “Never mind," he mumbles, cradling his stinging fingers.

Simmons glances at Coulson and motions him forward. No smoke inhalation but minor bruising on his shoulder. Should be fine in a couple of days. Elena has a scratch on her cheek that won't scar as long as she doesn't pick at it and doesn't let it get infected. When Bobbi, Mack and Fitz have been checked over, Simmons nods to Melinda.

“Your turn,” she says. “Sit up here.”

Melinda sits on the bed and resists the urge to swing her legs like a little kid.

_Melinda hopes something is wrong. Anything to stop her killing her team._

Simmons checks for smoke inhalation and finds only nothing, thank God. Her cheek is bruised and her lip is split and Melinda hopes that’s it but Simmons finds a cracked rib. Melinda swears in her head. Simmons gives her stern instructions not to do anything _too_ stressing. Melinda nods like a good agent and says yes ma’am and ignores Bobbi’s snickers.

She escapes as soon as Simmons says she’s fine. Coulson follows her. She supposes since he’s going to die tomorrow, she can pretend to love him. And if he doesn’t die, he’ll be heartbroken and that serves him right for being so stupid. She can let him have this.

Melinda heads cockpit. Coulson follows and shuts the door behind him and leans his arms on the back of the pilot seat. Melinda sits in the pilot seat and he plays with her hair. She swallows her disgust but he seems to notice her tension and he stops. She flicks the autopilot on and twists around to face him. He smiles sweetly at her and she smiles back. He doesn’t seem to notice the lies written across her face. He leans down and pauses.

“May I?” he asks.

“Coulson I?” she smirks.

He rolls his eyes. The moment’s ruined. “You’re an ass.”

“I saved your life.”

“When?” he asks, pretending to confused.

“Shall I list the multiple occasions chronologically or alphabetically?” she asks, folding her arms. She’s got him wrapped around her little finger.

_Melinda’s knees are by her nose. Her hands hold up the roof. She tries to move, tries to shift her legs but the roof just comes down further, scraping against the walls. She kicks the wall in frustration and appreciates just how stupid that is when her skin scrapes off. Blood dribbles onto the ground. Sharp stone poke at her butt and she changes position so she’s lying on her back and her legs are holding up the roof. Her arms thank her, trembling from the weight of the roof._

Melinda glances out the window to hide her wince. Luckily, Coulson doesn’t notice. She thinks of his death tomorrow. Hm. Actually, it might be the following day. She needs to spar with them all to get a hold of their fighting style. She already knows Daisy’s but Bobbi and Hunter could be a problem. Hunter looks like he would be a scrappy, dirty fighter. She knows she is better than Coulson but she could probably do with a refresher of how he fights.

“Wanna spar when we get back?” she asks.

He rolls his eyes. “You’ll hurt your cracked rib,” he reminds her.

Oh. Right. She’s forgotten about that. She frowns. Coulson laughs.

“As long as you don’t try to do any of your … twisty, turny moves,” he compromises, waving his hands.

Melinda just stares at him in confusion. “I don’t do _twisty, turny moves_ ,” she says, copying him.

He shifts his feet and his ears go pink. “Kind of. Deal?”

“Fine,” she says.

She lands the plane in the hangar and he follows her to one of the training rooms. They lay out the mats and Melinda thanks the heavens that Simmons isn’t anywhere near. She waits for Coulson to lay out the last mat and then pounces on him, twisting over his shoulder and knocks him to his feet. He lets out a huff of air.

“What did we say about twisty, turny moves?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“That was not a twisty, turny move,” she says, rolling her eyes. She offers him a hand and he takes it. She’s only slightly surprised when he doesn’t pull her down.

They spar for real then. Melinda ignores her cracked rib until she reminds herself that she needs to be in the best shape possible for when she kills them. She catches Coulson’s approving look and swears at him inside her head. He just so _condescending_.

She doesn’t know how it happens. One moment she’s ducking under his fist and the next she’s flat on her back on the mat. He doesn’t waste time, quickly straddling her waist and pinning her hands above her head. She blinks. He grins smugly at her.

“Shut up,” she says before he opens his mouth and she’s not sure how she knew he was going to say something.

“Surrender?” he asks.

“This isn’t one of your Captain America games, Phil,” she jokes. The word ‘Phil’ sounds foreign coming out of her mouth but Coulson doesn’t notice.

“You aren’t going anywhere until you surrender,” he says.

“I can’t. You’re holding my hands,” she says.

“Saying it will be good enough,” Coulson tells her, shifting his grip.

In the few seconds it takes for him to change his grip, she bucks her hips and twists in midair. She’s so close to throwing him off but he wraps his arms around her and rolls. She tries to stop them when she’s on top but he has more momentum. She _almost_ rolls them over so she’s on top but Coulson stops them at the last second. She thuds onto the mat. Coulson grabs her hands before she can poke his eyes out with her thumbs. He tsks at her and pins her. She growls at him. His weight presses uncomfortably against her cracked rib and she uses it to her advantage, hissing in pain. He instantly sits up, concerned.

“Are you alright?” he asks. “Is it your rib?”

She nods, holding her side. When he gets off her she stands up and when he goes to stand up too, she runs, slamming the door shut behind her.

“May!” he yells after her, standing in the middle of the training room. She doesn’t answer him. He sighs and starts packing up the mats, stacking them along one side of the wall.

The next day, Melinda gets up early at three in the morning like a total idiot and trains. At five, Daisy stumbles in, yawning.

“Late,” Melinda comments, moving to the next motion in Tai Chi.

“By like, one minute,” Daisy scoffs.

Melinda doesn’t say anything for a long time. Daisy wonders if she’s forgotten about it when Melinda speaks up.

“One minute forty-five seconds,” she corrects.

“What? Oh, right,” Daisy says, her brain going blank for a second.

They finish Tai Chi and then move onto sparring. Melinda lets Daisy pin her and then shows her some of the strangling techniques. Daisy listens half-heartedly until Melinda twists them, slamming Daisy onto the mats. The breath is stolen from her lungs and her eyes widen at the wild look in Melinda’s eyes.

“If you do not listen, you will not learn,” Melinda snaps. “It’s my job to protect you as your S.O. and you are not dying on my watch.”

Daisy nods quickly. “Sorry.”

Melinda relaxes, controlling herself. “Sorry,” she apologises back.

They spar and Melinda manages to control herself for the rest of the lesson. She ducks under Daisy’s fist and throws her own punch. It hits hard, knocking Daisy back a few steps. Melinda kicks at Daisy’s knees and forces her backwards. She reminds herself to smile every time she forces Daisy back another step. Daisy blows her stinky morning breath in her face and Melinda scrunches up her nose. Daisy takes advantage of her split-second distraction and punches Melinda. Unfortunately, she hits Melinda’s cracked rib which breaks.

Both Daisy and Melinda look at each other with wide eyes when they hear the bone snap. Daisy reaches out and pokes the area around the rib. Melinda snatches Daisy’s hand and grips it tightly. She waits for the pain to diminish slightly before she twists Daisy’s fist and kicks her legs out from underneath her. She pins Daisy and smirks.

“Tap out?” she asks.

Daisy just stares at her in horror. “You – You have a – rib – broken – what? Jemma!” Daisy eventually hollers.

Melinda gets to her feet quickly and backs away. “What are you _doing_?” she hisses.

“Making sure you’re alright,” Daisy says, “Obviously.”

“This is _not_ making sure I’m alright,” Melinda says. This must be how the real Melinda reacts to medical attention because Daisy isn’t batting an eyelid.

Simmons pokes her head in. “Yes?” she says. “Is everything alright?”

“We’re fine,” Melinda assure her. “Daisy just couldn’t get out of a pin.”

Simmons nods. “Honestly, Daisy. I _am_ busy,” she says, hiding her amusement.

Daisy stares at her, mouth wide open. “ _What_? She has a broken rib!” she exclaims, pointing at Melinda.

Simmons’ gaze snaps to Melinda.

“I have a _cracked_ rib,” Melinda corrects, “Which you already know.”

Simmons narrows her eyes. She makes her way over and lifts up Melinda’s T-shirt. Melinda pretends to force herself not to run away. Simmons presses around the area of the broken rib and declares it broken. Melinda yanks her T-shirt down and takes a big step backwards.

“May, if you don’t look after yourself, Ward will kill you,” Simmons says.

Melinda shrugs. “He can try.”

Simmons glares at her. “You are going to die an awful death because of not looking after yourself.”

“That’s encouraging,” Melinda comments.

“Med Bay,” Simmons says, pointing the way. “ _Now_.”

Melinda glares but she makes her way to the Med Bay, Daisy and Simmons right behind her. In the Med Bay, Simmons wraps her ribs and gives her strict instructions on what not to do. Melinda nods and tries to breathe normally, even if it hurts her rib. She slides off the examination bed and quietly walks towards the door, her footsteps making no sound.

“May,” Simmons says coolly.

Melinda ducks her head and freezes.

“Look after yourself,” she says, more kindly.

Melinda looks back at her in surprise. She wasn’t expecting that.

_Melinda watches in satisfaction. So, Pierce might not win, after all, now that she’s injured. Her back is killing her and she’s fairly certain that some stone might have broken through the skin. Her legs are just starting to shake. She lets out a breath through her nose and breathes in. She isn’t expecting the air to be more poisonous than before. She chokes and coughs loudly. Her face turns purple before she manages to get her lungs used to the new air. It’s probably not a good thing that she can adjust to dangerous chemicals in the air so well._

Melinda walks into her bunk and finds Coulson waiting for her. “I surrender,” she says quickly before he can attack her.

He smirks at her. “Heard you and Daisy sparring. Something about a broken rib, perhaps?”

Melinda snorts. “That’s nonsense. Now get out of my bunk and let me sleep.”

“It’s eight in the morning,” Coulson frowns.

“And I got up at three. Out,” Melinda repeats, stifling a yawn.

Before Coulson can move, an alarm blares. They both run towards the sound and find Daisy glaring at her laptop.

“What’s going on?” Hunter yells, rushing in.

“My stupid computer won’t work,” Daisy grumbles under her breath.

Coulson peers at the screen. “You just tried to hack into the US government.”

“Only to see if they knew anything,” Daisy protests.

“I’m going to sleep and then wake-up and hope none of this ever happened,” Melinda sighs. No-one hears her over the sound of the alarm.

Just then, Simmons and Fitz walk in. Fitz is yawning. Mack follows, glaring at the computer. Elena is absent, choosing instead to try to sleep through the noise.

“What’s going on?” Simmons shouts.

“Daisy tried to hack the US government,” Coulson shouts back.

Fitz brightens. “Did you get in?”

“No,” Daisy scowls. “That’s why the alarm went off.”

“Can you turn the alarm off?” Bobbi yells.

Daisy deletes the page and the alarm stops abruptly. Everyone’s ears ring. Hunter and Bobbi are the first to leave. Fitz and Simmons follow them out until only Melinda, Coulson and Daisy are left.

“Sorry?” Daisy tries.

Coulson just folds his arms. “You couldn’t have waited until a more reasonable time?”

“If five a.m. is a reasonable time to train, the eight a.m. is a reasonable time to hack,” Daisy argues.

“Five in the morning is never a reasonable time to do anything,” Coulson says.

Melinda kicks his legs out from underneath him and he lands heavily on his back.

“Melinda,” he complains.

“Five a.m. is a perfectly acceptable time,” Melinda says. “Just because you have no energy.”

Daisy sneaks out while they bicker.


	6. Caught

Today’s the day. It’s two days later than the original day but she’s ready now. She gets up early and trains. No one else is in the training room yet but FitzSimmons are in the lab. She hangs up a punching bag and warms up. When Daisy enters, she’s just starting to breathe heavily.

“Want a partner that can hit back?” Daisy offers.

Melinda feels the corners of her mouth curl up. “Think you can beat me?”

Daisy snorts. “One day.”

She hits the ground approximately eleven times before she calls out, “water break,” twice, in case Melinda didn’t hear it the first time.

_Melinda groans. Her body is freezing, sweat running down her forehead and neck. Her legs are shaking like a bus window and she’s pretty sure she’s almost at her breaking point. She doesn’t have time to try and stop herself sparring before Pierce makes her stand up and hit Daisy again._

 

Daisy barely ducks and is forced back by Melinda’s blows. She blocks as many as she can but she’s not good enough. She ducks under Melinda’s arms and takes a few steps away to put some distance between them **.**

 

_‘I’m sorry,’ Melinda yells as loud as she can. She yells it, again and again, to try and get the words through the tiny gaps where the roof touches the walls. She wishes she’d done it when the barrier had been a wall of iron bars and not a solid concrete wall. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she says quietly._

“May!” Daisy gasps. “May, what are you doing?”

Melinda doesn’t answer and pins Daisy gently. It’ll do her no good if Daisy mistrusts her before she lines them all up in a row. “Good. Next time, fight back earlier.”

It takes Coulson half an hour before he’s sure that Melinda is not okay. The confirmation is watching the footage from the training room. He’s seen Melinda out of control before and the way she’s going at Daisy before she reins it in makes him 100% sure of it. Well. 95%. Better safe than sorry. He replays the footage and studies it.

_Daisy ducks under Melinda’s fist and hooks her leg around Melinda’s and pulls her to the ground. Melinda rolls and kicks Daisy’s knees, making her pause. Melinda doesn’t wait, pouncing on her and pinning her to the mats, twisting her arm behind her back. Daisy taps the mat twice but Melinda doesn’t release her for a few moments._

_“What the hell, May?” Daisy bursts out when she’s free. “What the_ hell _was that?”_

_Melinda shrugs._

_“No! You need a better answer than that. This is the third time you’ve lost control,” Daisy snaps. “Are you trying to kill me?”_

_“No.”_

_“Then what? Do you just not like me?” Daisy asks._

_“No. You’re reckless and dangerous and you’re a liability in the field. I am_ trying _to train you but you’re just stepping back and letting me attack you. You need to get your act together because we won’t be able to save you forever,” Melinda snaps._

_Daisy’s mouth opens and closes. She takes a step back, trembling._

_“See? My point exactly,” Melinda says. “You’re weak, you’re not strong enough to be in the field. I don’t know what Coulson thinks he’s doing sending you on missions.”_

_“You know, you don’t have to be so cruel. You could have just told me to train harder or get out,” Daisy says, her voice shaky._

_Melinda crosses her arms. “Would that have worked?” Her eyes narrow. “And anyway, we don’t need you.”_

_Daisy doesn’t say anything. She turns around and runs out of the room. Melinda watches her go, her face unreadable but her eyes cold._

Coulson stops the footage. There’s a knock on the door. He has a feeling he knows who it was. “Come in,” he calls.

Daisy opens the door. Her eyes are red and puffy. Coulson stands up and goes over to her.

“May,” she tries but her voice chokes up and she can’t get any more out.

“I know,” he says. “I know.”

Daisy asks how with questioning eyes. He gestures to the computer on his desk where the footage is still up.

Melinda thinks about the way she’d acted in the training room. She wonders if Daisy is telling anyone. No. Probably not. She wouldn’t want the embarrassment of anyone knowing that May didn’t like her. It was so obvious how Daisy strained for approval. She remembers the fight and sighs.

_Daisy ducks under Melinda’s fist and hooks her leg around Melinda’s and pulls her to the ground. Melinda rolls and kicks Daisy’s knee, making her pause. She doesn’t wait, pouncing on her and pinning her to the ground, twisting her arm behind her back. Daisy taps the mat twice but Melinda doesn’t release her for a few moments._

_“What the hell, May?” Daisy bursts out when she’s free. “What the hell was that?”_

_Melinda shrugs._

Melinda watches in horror. She shakes out her right leg in the small space that there is, leaving her left leg to take all the weight. Then she switches.

_“No! You need a better answer than that. This is the third time you’ve lost control,” Daisy says. “Are you trying to kill me?”_

_“No.”_

_“Then what? Do you really not like me?”_

_“No. You’re reckless and dangerous and you’re a liability in the field. I am trying to train you but you’re just stepping back and letting me. You need to get your act together because we won’t be able to save you forever,” Melinda snaps_.

_Daisy’s mouth opens and closes. She takes a step back, trembling._

_“See? My point exactly,” Melinda says. “You’re weak, you’re not strong enough to be in the field. I don’t know what Coulson thinks he’s doing sending you on missions.”_

‘Stop it!’ Her whole body is trembling now, vibrating with dismay. ‘No, Daisy, that’s not true!’

_“You know, you don’t have to be so cruel. You could have just told me to train harder or get out,” Daisy says, her voice shaky._

_Melinda crosses her arms. “Would that have worked?” Her eyes narrow. “And anyway, we don’t need you.”_

_Daisy doesn’t say anything. She turns around and runs out of the room. Melinda watches her go, her face unreadable but her eyes cold._

Melinda shakes off the memory. It’s over now.

What’s done is done. Even if she wishes she could stop herself from doing it.

 

Melinda isn’t surprised when gets called into Coulson’s office. He doesn’t look particularly impressed with her.

“Yes?” she asks.

“You want to explain this?” he asks, showing her the footage of her and Daisy’s fight.

“You’ve only just seen it?” she deflects.

“I saw it while it was happening. You want to explain it?”

“No.”

“Alright then. Explain why you called Daisy useless and a liability, Agent May,” he orders.

_Melinda grins and pushes hard on the roof. She nearly stops in surprise when she sees herself freeze. It’s that pause that lets Pierce get her back under control with no trouble. She pushes again and she manages to get the roof a few millimetres higher. It’s not much, but considering her previous attempts, she’s doing better than before._

Melinda spins on her heel and walks out of the room. She ignores Coulson when he yells at her retreating form. His hand on her arm stops her.

“Agent May, you  _will_  explain yourself,” he says.

“No.”

She has never been this disobedient before. He lets her go, his face hard. He goes back into his office and calls Maria.

“Coulson?” Maria says. “What’s up?”

“Maria. Did you see Melinda at HQ after she said she’d escaped from Pierce?” he asks. That he’s questioning if she’s telling the truth about that minor detail – well, it’s fairly major, actually – annoys him. He thought they could trust each other. That there would be no more secrets.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Was she acting strangely?”

“Kind of.”

“Damn. Hang on, let me just send you something. I’m not sure what’s happening but maybe you can figure it out.”

“Got it.”

 

Melinda listens outside his office. She swears mentally. He’s onto her. She hears footsteps approaching and walks silently towards them. It’s Daisy. Daisy looks up from her phone and glares at her.

“Come to tell me how useless I am?” she snaps.

“You already know,” Melinda replies, walking onwards.

“You know what, May?” Daisy says, standing up.

Melinda turns around. “What?”

“I think you’re someone who’s not used to not getting her own way. You didn’t want me on the Bus when I first joined and now you’re trying to kick me off,” Daisy says harshly. She’s tired of this. May can hate her all she likes, but she’s not leaving. “Decided to tell me I should kill myself?”

“Yes,” Melinda says.

_‘No!’ Melinda cries out. Daisy doesn’t hear her._

“May? Are you saying you think I should kill myself?” Daisy asks in disbelief. She had known that May could be lethal with her words but she hadn’t realised just how much.

“Why, certainly,” Melinda smiles cruelly. “What are you that’s actually important?”

Daisy doesn’t have an answer.

_Melinda shoves with all her might but either Pierce has gotten stronger or she has gotten weaker. It’s more likely that she’s gotten weaker. She’s angry and tired. She just wants to sleep. She hasn’t slept once since the walls started closing in on her. Any weakness and she’d be crushed._

“I thought so,” Melinda says. “Just a fake, abandoned, unwanted little girl.”

Daisy’s eyes flash. Before she knows what she’s doing, she attacks May. May has pressed all the right buttons and she knows it. Daisy pins May against the wall and goes to punch her but May just smiles mockingly and shoves her away, tripping her. Daisy sees her life flash before her eyes right before everything turns black.

Melinda hauls the unconscious girl up and hides her in a supply closet. Then she goes on her way to gather up the rest of them. She finds Elena in the training room, practising on the punching bag. She takes the agent by surprise, shooting Elena in the back. She drags Elena out, telling anyone who asks that she punched her too hard when they were sparring. She’s only got an ICER; the real guns are in the lab where Fitz plays with them. She makes her way to the lab, dumping Elena just inside by the doors. Simmons isn’t there, only Fitz and the other SHIELD agents. She orders them out and they listen, some giving her a strange look. Fitz doesn't even look up. She slinks up behind him and jabs him in the pressure point on his neck. He collapses to the ground without a sound. She lifts him up and turns around, meeting Simmons eyes across the lab.

“What are you doing–” Simmons falls in a heap to the floor.

Melinda lowers the ICER. She drags Fitz over to the wall, out of sight and then does the same for Simmons and Elena. She goes to the supply closet where Daisy is just stirring. Melinda tapes Daisy’s hands and feet together with duct tape. She uses up half of the roll before she’s happy. She waits until she's sure there's no-one coming and runs towards the lab.

Daisy comes to halfway to the lab. She struggles to escape but Melinda just duct tapes her mouth. Daisy glares at her. She tries to speak but the duct tape prevents it. She squirms in Melinda’s arms until Melinda slams Daisy’s head into the wall, subduing her.

_Melinda sobs. What is she doing? She will never forgive herself. Never. Not when she’s harmed Daisy in such a way. And Jemma and Leo._

Melinda runs into the lab and drops Daisy, drawing her ICER. Damn it. Bobbi, Hunter and Mack are standing in front of FitzSimmons, examining them. A team of SHIELD medics are checking them to make sure nothing's wrong. Daisy tries to worm her way towards Bobbi and Hunter but Melinda stops her. She keeps her ICER trained on Bobbi, Mack and Hunter and hauls Daisy to her feet. She reaches into her pocket and unsheathes a knife smoothly, pressing it against Daisy’s neck.

"You lot," she says to the team of medics. "Out." She glares at them until they comply, hurrying with their heads down towards the door. One of them, Piper, gives Melinda a look filled with hate and confusion. “Drop your guns and kick them over here,” she orders. “Or I’ll kill her.”

That stops Bobbi and Hunter in their tracks. Mack lowers his gun, staring helplessly at Daisy. Hunter hesitates but when Bobbi doesn’t lower her ICER, he brings his back up to aim at Melinda’s chest.

“Drop your guns and kick them over here,” Melinda repeats, pressing the knife hard enough to draw blood.

Daisy lets out a muffled whimper and that’s enough for Bobbi to falter. Still, though, they don’t lower their weapons. Melinda slashes a line down Daisy’s arm. Daisy yells, eyes watering. She tries to shy away from Melinda but Melinda just grabs her injured arm and pulls her back. Bobbi realises that Melinda will kill Daisy, even though she hadn’t thought it possible.

The two drop their ICERs and kick them over to Melinda’s feet. Melinda points them to where Simmons and Fitz are slumped.

“Hands by your head,” she adds.

Bobbi shoots her a dark look but complies. She doesn’t want Daisy getting injured anymore. Hunter copies her, hands clenched into fists.

“How could you do this?” Bobbi asks, standing protectively in front of Fitz. Hunter stands in front of Simmons. Mack stands in front of both of them, fists clenched. “How could you betray us like this? What about Coulson? You trained Daisy and protected her in the field. And now you’re betraying her.”

Melinda stares at her unemotionally. Once people have made their minds up, it's rare that they can be changed.

The lab door opens. Melinda drags Daisy to the closest wall, the opposite one to FitzSimmons, Mack, Bobbi and Hunter. She grips her ICER and digs the knife into Daisy’s neck harder. She aims the ICER at Coulson who looks at FitzSimmons slumped against the wall, Bobbi and Hunter with their hands by their heads and Daisy, with a long gash running down her upper arm. He stares at Melinda, frozen.

“Melinda?” he says. “What – What are you doing? What’s going on?”

She curls her lip. “What’s going on? I’m taking control, Coulson. And you’re in my way.”

He pulls his ICER out of his waistband and goes to shoot her but Melinda digs her knife deeper into Daisy’s neck. Blood spurts out and Daisy tries to squirm away. She fails miserably. Melinda smirks cruelly.

“Drop that gun and kick it over here,” Melinda instructs.

Coulson takes one look at Daisy and drops his gun, kicking it over harshly. Melinda releases some of the pressure on Daisy’s neck. More blood dribbles out.

“You won’t shoot me,” Coulson says confidently when he sees her finger squeeze the trigger.

Melinda scoffs. “How can you be so sure? After all, I tricked you into thinking I loved you. How could Melinda love  _you_? You’re delusional.”

Coulson frowns. “Don’t you mean you?”

“No,” Melinda says. “And I will shoot you. I just want to know how this is all your fault first.”

“You won’t shoot me,” Coulson repeats. “You can’t.” He’s seen her try to shoot him before. She managed to fire the gun but it went wildly off-target.

“Watch me,” Melinda snarls and she pulls the trigger.

Coulson collapses, his expression still surprised when he falls to the floor, banging his head. Daisy tries to yell through her gag. Melinda lets her go and keeps her gun trained on Bobbi and Hunter. She doesn’t take her eyes off them. Daisy worms her way over to them, wincing as she bangs her arm on the table.

Bobbi vaults over the workbench and Melinda doesn’t even think, she just shoots. Bobbi goes limp, banging her head on the edge of the table. Mack collapses, falling almost on top of FitzSimmons. Then Hunter fires an ICER that he must have had in his jeans and she sees blackness.

_Melinda shoves the roof with her feet harshly. How could she do that to them?_

_She's a monster._


	7. Vault D

_God, she’s so tired. Her eyelids feel heavy. She closes them for a few seconds just to relieve the pressure for a little bit. She feels herself slipping into the dark abyss of dreams and nightmares and opens her eyes quickly. Her left leg slips and the roof comes crashing down. She just barely manages to get her knees up in time before the roof hits her. The rough texture of the roof scrapes her knees. She screws up her face as she tries to lift the roof even a little bit. Nothing works._

_‘I am in control, Melinda,’ Pierce whispers, his voice sliding through her head, seeking out her secrets._

_She manages to kick him out but it leaves her exhausted. She tries so hard, but her eyes slip closed and she sinks into dreamland._

Hunter splashes water on Jemma and Fitz. They barely stir. He shakes Bobbi’s shoulder and she doesn’t move. Then he remembers about Daisy. She’s sitting slumped against the wall. He rips the duct tape off her face and she winces.

“Sorry,” Hunter apologises, finding a pair of scissors in the third draw down. He cuts away the duct tape and Daisy gets to her feet shakily, clutching her arm. “I can’t properly stitch gashes like that, but I can try if you want.”

Daisy nods, face pale. “Please.”

He helps her sit on the workbench. She gets blood all over the surface. Fitz is going to be  _so_  cross but it's better than her getting blood all over the seats. The budget for the number of seats that need replacing after being stained with blood is astounding. He stitches her arm up slowly, trying to do his best. Daisy grits her teeth and clenches her fists. When Hunter finishes, he wraps a bandage around the wound. Daisy slides off the seat and curls up on the cold, hard floor, trying to get comfortable. Hunter brings her a pillow and blanket from the medical cupboard.

Hunter cuffs Melinda’s wrists behind her back and drags her to the holding cell. He locks the door and then goes back to the others. Fitz is starting to stir but Jemma’s still out cold. Mack and Elena are unconscious, although Elena's almost awake. Coulson and Bobbi are still out.  _Bobbi_. Hunter sits Bobbi up and his fingers touch something wet. His stomach churns and he checks the back of Bobbi’s head. Blood is leaking out. How could he have missed this? He stitches up the wound, his hand surprisingly steady despite the rest of his shaking body. When he finishes, he wipes the rest of the blood away, careful not to pull any of the stitches.

A low moan from Fitz draws his attention. He nearly stands on Daisy as he makes his way over. Fitz blinks quickly. He rubs his eyes and stares at Hunter in confusion.

“You alright, mate?” Hunter asks. “You feel okay?”

“I – I’m – yes,” Fitz manages. He feels the weight of Jemma against his side and turns to check who it is. His expression changes from confusion to worry quickly. “Jemma … Jemma…” He taps Jemma’s shoulder but she doesn’t move.

“She was shot with an ICER,” Hunter explains.

“What?” Fitz is so shocked it brings him out of his dazed state. “By – by who?”

Hunter hesitates. “May,” he says after a lengthy pause.

Fitz stares at him, jaw dropped. “This is a joke, right?” he asks, his voice small. “You’re gonna tell me you got me and May’ll appear out of nowhere laughing at me, right?”

Hunter shakes his head. “I don’t have the slightest clue what went through her head but she definitely shot Jemma. In the chest, I believe, considering there’s a ruffle in her clothing there.”

Fitz sometimes forgot how could Hunter was at his job. It was easy too, considering how many buttons Hunter enjoyed pressing and his love for beer.

“But … May…” Fitz trails off.

“She hurt Daisy,” Hunter says, voice tense. “And she hurt Bobbi.”

"She  _what_?" Elena asks, staring at them. Hunter realises that she must have woken up. "Oh, I'm going to kill her."

Fitz stills. No wonder the ex-merc seems so tense. “Oh. Is she … alright?”

“I stitched her gash up if that’s what you mean. I’m just waiting until everyone wakes up for now.” Somehow they both know they’re talking about Bobbi. "Maybe find out the reason for this, Speedy Gonzales."

“Where’s Coulson?” Fitz asks, straining his neck but the workbench is in the way.

“May shot him,” Hunter says, shaking his head in disbelief. “The one thing I never thought I would see from her.”

“Wait, seriously?” Fitz says, scratching his neck. “ _May_  shot  _Coulson_?”

“I know, right?” Hunter grins. “Weird, huh.” He sobers up quickly. “Can you stand?”

Fitz shrugs. He glances at Jemma. She’s beginning to wake, her fingers twitching.

“Jemma?” Fitz asks.

Jemma mumbles something and forces herself to open her eyes. What had happened? Her brain rewires and the memories start to come back to her. Fitz, unconscious in May’s arms. May, pointing the ICER at her. Then nothing. She stares at the ground in confusion.

“May,” she says to Hunter. “What?”

“Dunno,” Hunter shrugs. Out of th corner of his eye, he sees Mack beginning to stir. “Shot you, Bobbi, Elena, Mack; hurt Daisy; even shot Coulson.”

“Where is she now?” Jemma asks.

“In the holding cell,” Hunter says. “I shot her while she shot Bobbi. She didn’t check us for weapons.”

Then the rest of what he’s said catches up with her.

“Hang on, wait a minute,” she says. “ _May_  shot  _Coulson_? And hurt  _Daisy_?”

“Yeah. Held Daisy hostage and when Bobbi and I didn’t give our guns over fast enough, she sliced a line down Daisy’s arm. She’s on the other side of the bench, if you want to see her,” Hunter tells them. “Then Coulson came in and asked what was going on and she aimed her gun at him and they talked and he was  _so_  confident that she wouldn’t shoot him but she did.”

"That's just wrong," Mack grimaces.

Jemma struggles to her feet and is glad to feel the effects of the ICER wearing off. She sits beside Daisy and Fitz joins her, sitting beside her.

Hunter swallows and drags Coulson to the common room, dumping him on the couch - there is no way he's dragging Coulson up those stairs - with a note that they’re in the lab. He comes back and finds that they’ve pulled Bobbi closer to them. Hunter sits down and places Bobbi’s head in his lap.

A half-hour later, Daisy has woken up. She’s just as confused as Jemma and Fitz.

“Why would May…? How could she do that?” Daisy asks. Her mouth tastes like cotton.

Hunter shrugs. “Who knows? Maybe she was having a mid-life crisis?”

Bobbi slaps him half-heartedly. “’S not funny,” she mutters.

“Bobbi!” he grins. “You’re awake!”

“Where’s Melinda?” she asks. “May,” she corrects.

“Holding cell,” Hunter says.

“So, if you’re awake, then Coulson should be awake, too,” Daisy says.

They sit and think about that for a while.

“Yeah, probably,” Bobbi says in the end.

Daisy stands up. “I’ll be back.” She holds her injured arm and walks up to the common room. Coulson is sitting on the couch with his head in his hands.

“A.C?” Daisy asks cautiously.

Coulson looks up at her. “Why would she do this?”

Daisy doesn’t have an answer. She sits down opposite him. “Maybe she felt anything for us at all,” she suggests. “Maybe she was playing us the whole time.” As soon as she says it she regrets it.

Coulson stands up abruptly and turns away, back straight, shoulders tense.

“Coulson…” Daisy tries, standing up too.

He doesn’t answer until she leaves. In the privacy of his office, he smashes the Captain America mug she had bought him for his twentieth birthday, still fresh out of the Academy. Then he realises what he's done and begins to cry, his tears splashing off the shards.

After a while, he pulls himself together. He wanders through HQ aimlessly until he finds them, sitting in a circle in the lab where Melinda stabbed Daisy, shot him, Simmons and Fitz and injured Bobbi. He feels himself get angry and he forces himself to turn around and walk away before he does something he’ll regret. When he’s calmed down, he goes back and joins them. One of them have lit a candle and it occurs to him that this might be their funeral for the Melinda they thought they knew.

They sit there until the candle has burnt down to the bottom, spreading wax onto the floor. Daisy blows it out and Coulson sees dried blood on her neck.

Melinda had woken up in the fifth hour. Since then, she had sat quietly in the corner. Now though, she was fiddling with her handcuffs. She dislocated her thumbs and slides the handcuffs off. She stands up, looking around the cell.

_Melinda finds herself lying flat on her back, the roof crushing her. She must have fallen asleep. She can’t breathe, can’t move! She panics, limbs flailing in the limited space. The roof presses down too hard on her ribs and she can feel a few of them begin to crack. Her cheek is beginning to ache. She lifts her hands, palms facing the roof and tries to push it off her but the best she can do is a few centimetres._

“She’s unlocked her handcuffs, hasn’t she,” Bobbi says dryly, finding her team standing outside the holding cell.

Coulson nods.

“Can you … use your powers?” Bobbi asks, addressing Daisy. “Hold her in place?”

Daisy glances at Coulson, unsure. “I could try, I guess.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Coulson says blandly.

Hutner unlocks the door and steps out of the way. Melinda tries to run out and kill them all but Daisy holds up her hands and stops her. She pushes Melinda into the wall and Coulson slips into the holding cell with a pair of extended handcuffs. Melinda struggles futilely as Coulson cuffs her wrists behind her back. He does the same for her ankles but with a foot length of chain so she can walk. Coulson holds her back when Daisy stops her powers. He and Bobbi hold an arm each as they walk her into the waiting arms of five SHIELD agents.

Because the real Melinda knows them, as soon as she sees them she recognises them; Victoria Hand – Level 8 agent working at the Hub and Felix Blake – level 7 agent, former partner of Coulson; Agent Piper, the agent she's training. The rest are all new. There’s a Hispanic woman, about thirty and a man of about twenty-five, probably fresh out of the Academy. He must be along for the experience. But then she tries to escape and he hooks his foot around her legs and grabs her elbow. The last agent is another man, maybe thirty-five with enough muscle to last a lifetime. They’re all wearing bullet-proof vests and carrying guns. Melinda wonders if they’ve been told to fire warning shots first and then non-crucial shots before killing her.

Melinda fights in vain when the SHIELD agents drag her off to a basement vault. She’s pretty sure it’s Ward’s old one. It must be a cruel joke, she decides. She kicks one of them in the head as she descends the stairs and goes to escape but they subdue her, pinning her to the wall. She tries her hardest to yank her wrists free from the handcuffs but the stupid agents just grab her arms and lift her into the air. Her feet dangle a foot above the ground as they carry her into the cell. Four of them pin her on her stomach – shoulders, knees, hips – and the last one - Piper - unlocks her cuffs. Piper ties a rope to a hook on the wall and attaches it to the chain connecting the cuffs on her ankles.

They let her go and quickly run out of the cell. The electrical wall starts up when they’re out of reach. Melinda unties the rope quickly and unlocks the cuffs on her ankles. She touches the wall cautiously and jerks her finger back when it zaps her.

 

Fury greets Coulson and his team with a twelve-letter swear word. Maria Hill snorts, quickly hiding her smile. It's not often Fury shows up out of hiding. Maria doesn't usually visit just to see old faces again, either. 

“What the hell is wrong with her?” Fury barks.

Coulson shrugs. “I don’t know, sir. I’m sure if you go ask her, she could tell you.”

“Maybe with bad language,” Maria mutters under her breath. “I called Barton and Romanoff,” she says louder. “They’ll be here soon.”

“Black Widow and Hawkeye?” Daisy grins, forgetting her pain.

Maria smirks. “Yep.” Then she sees Daisy’s wounds. She bites her lip. “Mel didn’t do that to you, did she?”

Daisy hesitates, looking at Coulson for support.

“She did,” Coulson confirms.

Maria exhales and swears. “Was she acting weirdly?”

“She said ‘how could Melinda love you?’” Coulson repeats. “And then when I asked if she meant ‘I’ she said no.”

Maria snickers despite the seriousness of the situation. “Are you telling me you fell in love with Not Melinda?”

Coulson rolls his eyes. “No.”

“Phil and Melinda, sitting up a tree–”

Coulson cuts her off. “Shut up. I don’t love her and it’s really not the time to be discussing this, considering she sliced Daisy’s arm open.”

“And shot  _you_ ,” Bobbi adds. “Which no one thought possible.”

“So she fooled us all,” Coulson shrugs. “She’s a spy. It’s what she does.” He fails to mention that he had thought it impossible, too.

“She would  _never_  shoot you willingly,” a new voice says. Natasha Romanoff. Clint is right behind her. “She couldn’t.”

Coulson shrugs again. “She fooled us all.”

“She fooled us all for thirty years?” Maria says in disbelief.

“Okay, fine,” Coulson says. “Maybe she was offered a better deal? Maybe Hydra got her before SHIELD did and she’s been a sleeper agent all this time?”

Clint snorts. “Her taking multiple bullets for you, faking her death for two weeks so she could get the mission done,  _Bahrain_ , all those other little things weren’t faked.”

“I’m a spy,” Natasha says. “There would have been little signs that she was lying to us if she had been fooling us.”

“What if Hydra brainwashed her?” Daisy suggests.

There’s a silence as everyone mulls it over.

“Was there any suspicious behaviour?” Jemma asks.

Coulson thinks of that tiny incident, the wrong words and locks eyes with Maria who’s also staring at him in horror.

“It doesn’t mean anything, does it?” Coulson asks, desperately hoping he’s right.

“Well right now, we have nothing better,” Fury says. “And I’m not losing one of my best agents without a damn good explanation.” He turns to Romanoff. “Can you interrogate her?”

Natasha nods. “Yes.”

“She’s in one of the basement cells. I told them Vault A but I doubt they’ll have listened so check Vault D,” Fury says.

Natasha nods and walks off, Clint trailing after her.

“Barton,” Fury barks. “Go with Coulson and rewatch all of the HQ's video footage.”

Coulson mentally swears. Anyone but Clint. Still, like the good little agent he is, he walks to the control room with Clint and plays the footage. He’s grateful that they don't watch the Zephyr's video footage. He's pretty sure that Clint would laugh at him. Still, better Clint than Maria.

Melinda sits on the bed and waits in her cell. The bed is hard with a thin blanket and the cell is cold but that’s probably intentional. They've given her only a thin blanket that barely covers her, so she’ll have to curl up when the temperature gets colder because there is no way that a cell would be this cold naturally. Curling up will make her feel vulnerable. It's all planned out.

She’s not expecting Romanoff. The door bangs shut loudly behind her, echoing in the small space. Romanoff stands in the middle of the room, a metre away from the electric wall separating them.

“You know, of all the people in the world, I never thought  _you_  would be the one to shoot Coulson,” Romanoff starts.

Melinda shrugs. She doesn’t care. They can torture her all they want but she’ll never tell them a damn thing. She might not have her own body or name but she’s loyal to Pierce and nothing can change it.

 _Especially_ not some red-headed, cold-blooded assassin.

 


	8. You really believed that?

Melinda rubs away the goosebumps on her arms. It’s not exactly cold, as such, it’s just cool. They’d turned the heating down overnight. She sits on the bed with the blanket over her knees. She tells herself she should wrap it around her but she can’t bring herself to. She has nothing to do. She may as well train to keep warm. She does thirty press-ups in a row and then stops and waits a minute before doing another thirty. She gets bored after she’s completed ninety press-ups but she’s not cold anymore so she lays on the bed and rests.

She’s almost asleep when the lights go off. It’s pitch black. She can’t see anything. She sits up and keeps her left and on the wall. When she gets to where the electric wall should be, there’s nothing. Not even the dim orange glow it made when it was turned on and she got too close. She frowns and moves forward cautiously. She reaches the end of the wall. She turns and trips over the stairs leading up to the door. She crouches down and feels the edge of the stairs. Slowly, walks up the stairs. The door is locked but she picks it in no time, using a bobby pin in her pocket. She snorts. Idiots. They still haven’t searched her for weapons. There’s a faint glow at the end of the corridor where light is peeping under the door.

An explosion rocks the building, knocking her off her feet. The door bursts open and she can make out the outline of Ward. He runs over to her, grabs her wrist and drags her with him. Ward hands her a gun and they round the corner, shooting down SHIELD agents.

_Melinda screams. She thrashes in her cage. The roof is thickening. The walls are cracking and she can only hope that when the walls break, she’ll be strong enough to crawl out from underneath the rock._

_All those agents, her_ friends _, dead or injured because she couldn’t beat Pierce the first time. She isn’t strong enough to free herself from this_ fucking _cage. It’s her fault._

Melinda keeps her head down and runs, Ward right beside her. They make it through the gates and into a black Honda. The driver pulls into the traffic and they disappear. The steady stream of cars makes them invisible. They drive for seven hours, enough time for Melinda to fall asleep, even though her brain warns her not to.

The driver pulls up outside a broken down toy factory. The building itself is being held up by tall metal beams, screwed into its side. It’s made out of crumbling grey concrete, tagging all over the first few metres high and then the occasional sign from a daredevil.

Ward punches Melinda’s head and she bangs against the window. He drags her out of the car and into the factory. She stumbles through the door, righting herself just before she bumps into Pierce.

“Sorry, sir,” she mumbles, twitching as Ward puts an arm around her shoulders to hold her upright.

Pierce says something in another language, Russian, she thinks, but her brain is fuzzy and she can’t understand them. Ward drops her and when she falls to the floor, he kicks her head until she’s unconscious. He smirks cruelly and hauls her limp body into a new room. The room is massive, probably where all the workers sat, making the toys – painting, stitching, glueing. There are boxes full of toys pushed up against the pale yellow walls. The odd teddy bear and crushed plastic train are scattered on the floor, collecting dust and germs.

Ward walks through the middle of the room, kicking a teddy bear out of his way. The door at the end of the room is rusted. The metal has turned orange. The doorknob is stiff. Ward shoves the door open with his shoulder and slams it shut behind him.

The next room is much smaller. The light isn’t on, making it pitch black. The only light is from the open door behind them. There are chains hanging from the ceiling. Ward ties Melinda to one and then sighs. She’s not awake yet. He unchains her and drops her in a heap in the corner.

Melinda groans and squints up at him. She’s pretty sure there shouldn’t be four of him. Ward approaches her and she shuffles away from him until her back is against the wall. His form blurs as he stalks forward, lifting her up roughly. She doesn’t try to kick him – Ward is one of the good guys. That she knows for a fact so she must have done something wrong. Her brain is foggy; she can’t remember what she’s done. It must have been something very bad or she wouldn’t be being punished for it.

Ward ties her wrists together behind her back and then hoists her up. He locks her wrists to the chains hanging from the ceiling. He arms twist painfully. She can barely touch the floor. She flips up, her feet twisting around the chains. It’s much less painful now but she doubts she’ll be able to hold it for long.

Ward leaves her, locking the door behind him. The seconds she falls back down, the door opens and Pierce comes in. Ward follows like a puppy. He shuts the door.

“Sir,” Melinda says, straining her neck to look at him. Her head clears when he punches her and she remembers failing her mission, being taken into SHIELD custody for interrogation. Her fault.

“Do you understand the importance of the mission I gave you?” Pierce says. His voice has no emotion, yet it cuts through Melinda like a knife.

“Yes, sir,” she says. She blinks and slams her eyelids closed when the light in the room flickers on suddenly.

“Then why did you fail?” he shouts.

Melinda flinches away. She stretches her toes and stops herself swinging closer to him. Pierce nods at Ward and he kneels down but her feet. She pulls her knees up to her chest, accidentally bumping him in the forehead. He yanks her legs down harshly and cuffs her ankles together. He ties the cuffs to a hook drilled into the floor. Melinda twists in an attempt to get free but then she remembers where she is and who she’s tied up before. Then she stops resisting and waits. She deserves this. She failed her mission.

Pierce backhands her viciously. Her cheek stings painfully. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t wince, just looks him in the eyes and reminds herself that she deserves this every time she gets an urge to fight back.

 _Melinda grunts under the weight. She does deserve this, she_ knows _that, just not for the reasons the Pierce tells her._

_She deserves this because she hurt her team._

_Because she knifed Daisy._

_Because she shot Phil._

 

It takes two weeks before she agrees with them out loud. She allows herself to jerk away just this once but Ward stops her. He pulls out a knife and it flashes through the air above her wrists. She isn’t expecting the chains holding her up to stop supporting her weight. She collapses on the floor. Her ribs complain and her sprained wrist yells in protest when she flings out her hands to stop her fall.

“Melinda,  _oh_ , Melinda,” Pierce says, shaking his head in mock despair.

Melinda wipes the blood from her mouth. “Sir,” she gasps.

Ward kicks her. She grunts and grabs her ribs. She’s pretty sure she heard her ribs crack. She shies away but Ward hauls her upright.

She closes her eyes and hopes they’ll forgive her but she knows they won’t.

She wouldn’t either.

 

Fury shoots the last Hydra agent and then drags their bodies into a pile. Coulson finds him standing there, scowling at the dead agents.

“May’s gone,” he says.

Fury swears. “Anyone else?”

Coulson shakes his head. “Looks like they only came for May.”

“Why wouldn’t they take anyone else?” Maria asks, coming over. She stands with her arms crossed, blood dried from a cut on her face.

Coulson shrugs. “They took the tracker out as well. As far as we know, she’s outside SHIELD.”

Fury lets out a deep breath. “Find her and bring her back. We still need to make sure she’s not a threat.”

 

_She can’t lift her head. She can’t lift anything. She’s so close to being snuffed out. She struggles in vain but it only makes the slab of concrete push harder. Her ribs crack under the pressure and she’s pretty sure her ankles are dislocated but she can’t be sure; she’s in too much pain already. It’s only been a week._

Ward kicks her stomach. “Useless,” he sneers. “Pathetic. Even my brother could have held out for longer. You’re just a snivelling, grovelling beggar.”

“Yes, sir,” she mutters. She believes it. Anything they tell her must be true.

He growls. “You don’t even put up a fight.”

“You want me to put up a fight, sir?” she asks, confused. She yelps as he breaks her wrist. She wipes her bleeding nose and flattens herself in the corner.

“Yes,” Ward says.

“Yes, sir,” Melinda agrees and the next time he tries to hit her, she moves out of the way. His fist collides with the wall and he swears. His eyes darken and he glares furiously at her. “Sir?” she asks hesitantly.

“Don’t mind him, Melinda,” Pierce says from the corner. “You did exactly what he told you to do.” To Ward: “That’s enough.” He helps Melinda stand but her first step results in her face-planting on the floor.

Ward opens the door for them. Pierce lets her take her time. She tries to go fast but she falls too often for her to keep trying. Pierce leads her to a small room with a first aid kit and medical supplies scattered on the floor. A doctor is sitting on the floor, idly spinning a roll of tape in her fingers. She jumps to her feet when Pierce enters.

“Am I allowed to help her?” she asks, knowing that Melinda is a SHIELD agent turned Hydra through classified means and failed her mission.

Pierce nods and she lowers Melinda to the floor. Melinda inhales sharply and holds her ribs. She lets the doctor take off her jacket – Pierce had stolen it from SHIELD when they’d recaptured her – but flinches when the doctor tries to take off her T-shirt.

“I’m Doctor Hooper,” she says. “It’s okay. No one's going to hurt you in here.”

And Melinda believes her. But she can’t bring herself to let Hooper take her T-shirt from her. Hooper gives her a small dose of general anaesthetic, enough to keep her docile and Melinda slumps forward. Pierce nods to Ward and he moves forward and drags Melinda over to the wall. Melinda groans, her eyes glazed.

“Be a little gentle,” Pierce chides.

Hooper washes away the blood with a bloodstained rag. She washes the blood off Melinda’s face as well. Melinda bats away Hooper’s hands weakly. Ward grabs her wrists and holds them so Hooper can bandage Melinda’s wounds. Melinda twists out of his grip and launches herself forward. Three sets of hands grab at her but she’s slippery with blood and water and she slides out of their grasps. Hooper holds onto Melinda’s torso tightly and presses the drugged agent to her. Melinda spasms, pulling some of her slightly scabbed over wounds open. She forces herself to take deep breaths, get her control back. She reminds herself that she’s not at SHIELD, she’s with Hydra who will take care of her.

This time, she lets Hooper bandage her wounds. Hooper finds a stick and uses it as a splint on her wrist. Melinda pulls her T-shirt back on but Pierce stops her and hands her a clean one. Melinda hesitates. This is the only thing she has left from Coulson and if she’s going to infiltrate them again, she might need  _some_  proof that she still loves him. Then she decides that Pierce knows what he’s doing so she takes the offered T-shirt.

_Melinda watches as Pierce burns Phil’s T-shirt. He’d gotten it from SHIELD but it had shrunk in the washing machine so she’d taken it because it smelt like him. She refuses to cry._

Melinda thanks Pierce for the clean clothes. She does her best to stand but she can’t support herself fully so she leans against the wall. She isn’t expecting Ward to kick her in the stomach. She doubles over, clutching her ribs. She looks up at them, confused. Ward kicks her jaw and she crashes back into the wall. The doctor winks at Melinda and leaves the room.

“You thought we’d let you go that easily?” Pierce sneers.

Melinda curses herself for her wishful thinking. She should have known better. Still, she grits her teeth and says, “No, sir.”

Pierce snorts. “Are you lying to me?”

Ward hauls her up by her new T-shirt and punches her, again and again and again, like she’s no more than a toy for him to use. She tries to get away but Ward holds her in place. He tears her T-shirt off her and she cries out in pain. She brings her arms up to shield her face and brings her leg up to protect her torso.

“Well?” Pierce demands.

She tries to answer but she can’t. Her mind’s in a turmoil, trying to straighten everything out but the pain is screwing everything up. Ward pauses and she forces out a, “Yes, sir.” Ward holds her upright, yanking her hair back so she’s standing up straight even though she really wants to curl up into a ball. She tries to kick Ward but he simply slams her into a wall. Pierce waits until she’s stopped struggling. Then he pulls out his gun and fires three times. Warning shots. One of them nicks her ear. She stares at Pierce, wide-eyed.

_‘Please,’ Melinda groans. If only he’d shot her. Then this might have been over quicker. She knows it’s the coward’s way out but she can’t face Daisy after this._

_More importantly, she can’t face Phil after this._

_If there even is an after this._


	9. So much blood

Daisy organises the search party for Melinda. May, she reminds herself. Not Melinda anymore. She touches the bandage covering her knife wound. Never in a million years did she think Melinda would hurt her. _May_. Even when Mel – May – was angry, she always held herself back.

She glances up from her computer when Coulson comes in but the sudden beeping her computer makes draws her attention back to the screen. Finally, Daisy thinks.

“She’s in Philadelphia,” Daisy says.

“Well, screw him,” Coulson says. Now he can’t ever take Melinda there and– No. Not anymore.

“What?” Daisy asks. “Why screw him? Not that I don’t agree, but…”

“Philadelphia,” Coulson explains.

Daisy closes her computer. “Still not getting it.

Coulson sighs. “ _Phil_ adelphia,” he repeats. “ _Phil_ Coulson.”

Daisy snorts. “So this is really like a taunting message? What, are you going to go to Alexandria?”

“Ha, ha,” Coulson says dryly. “No, I’m going to bomb his place once we’ve got Melinda out.”

Daisy’s glad she’s not the only one having trouble remembering to say ‘May’ instead of ‘Melinda.’ She follows Coulson out of the room. They go to Fury’s office. Coulson knocks on the door but Daisy waltzes in like she owns the place. Fury barely looks up from his computer. Daisy turns his computer screen around, types a few words into the search bar and a map of Philadelphia comes up.

“Don’t tell me that’s where she is,” Fury says, looking at Coulson.

“Yep,” Coulson says.

Fury snorts. “He’s a smart man.”

“Bastard,” Coulson corrects.

“That, too,” Fury shrugs. “Good job,” he tells Daisy because she’s standing right in front of him, pouting.

 

Melinda spits out blood. She tries again to yank her hands out of the cuffs but all that happens is a bolt of pain when the metal pulls away more skin. Her arms are flung out on either side of her, above her head and her wrists shackled to the wall. The bandages Doctor Hooper gave her have fallen off. She’s covered in blood and bruises and she’s so tired. She rests her head against the wall and closes her eyes for just a minute, she _swears_ , but when she opens them, Pierce is standing over her, shaking his head.

“What did I tell you, Melinda?” he asks.

She coughs, blood mixed with saliva dribbling out of the corner of her mouth. She wipes it on her shoulder but the action stretches her shoulder painfully and tears open the healing knife wound.

“Don’t … Don’t…” She can’t finish it.

“Don’t … Don’t,” Pierce mocks her. “Don’t what, Melinda?” He punches her jaw.

She’s surprised. For all the time she’s been here, he’s never once touched her, instead letting Ward do all the dirty work.

“Don’t…” she slurs. “Sleep.”

“Exactly,” Pierce snaps. “So what the hell were you doing?”

“S-sorry, sir,” she mumbles. Her eyelids close, too heavy despite her best efforts.

“Melinda…” Pierce warns.

“S… Sir,” she tries. “’M sorry.”

“If you’re sorry, then do something about it,” Pierce says coldly.

Melinda tries, she really does, but she’s so tired. Too tired to listen. Even though they know what they’re talking about. They’re the bosses, but she can’t. She’s asleep before she can stop herself.

Pierce growls, “When she’s awake, take her to room 23.”

Ward nods and opens the door for Pierce to leave. Then he leans against the wall and watches her. He smirks. She’s not resting, even in sleep. Her forehead is creased and her breathing is too fast to be normal.

 

Coulson finds Bobbi and gives her the coordinates. He explains briefly before going to find the rest of his team who have scattered throughout HQ. Once they’re all geared up and ready to go in a quinjet, he tells them what this is about. Bobbi listens through the speaker.

“Daisy found a match of Melinda in Philadelphia,” he says. “It’s a joke, it might not be real.”

Hunter hides his comment because Daisy kicks his shin hard enough to bruise.

 

Melinda wakes up with a gasp, trying to sit up but she forgets her hands are chained to the wall and she can’t bend that way. She hisses in pain. Something moves in the corner of her eyes and she recognises the shape as Ward. She flattens herself against the wall, expecting to be punched, kicked, hit, anything but unchained. Ward flings her over his shoulder and walks out of the room. Melinda presses her head to him. He’s so warm and she’s so cold.

Ward walks up a flight of stairs and down a corridor with doors labelled one to thirty. He stops at the twenty-third door and knocks, three sharp raps. Someone opens the door; Melinda can’t see who. Ward walks in and the someone shuts the door behind them. This time Melinda can see the person. She frowns. It’s Doctor Hooper. This time Hooper is wearing a paint-splattered T-shirt and black jeans. Her orange streaked hair is tied up in a ponytail.

There is an examining table in the middle of the room with unlocked cuffs dangling from the sides. Two beeping machines sit on one side of the table. Ward dumps Melinda on the table and presses his forearm against her throat. Hooper holds her ankles down when she tries to escape. She struggles to no avail. Eventually, when she’s got almost no air left, she stops. Ward lifts a little of the pressure on her throat off. She forces herself up, intending to surprise Ward but he’s expecting it and uses it as an excuse to slam her against the table. She groans.

While she’s stunned, Ward cuffs her hands to the sides of the table and the does the same for her feet. Then he locks the leather straps in place, over her waist, chest, knees, elbows. Hooper sticks a needle in the inside of Melinda’s elbow and she has enough time to swear before the world goes dark.

Hooper hooks the unconscious agent up to the machines. The first machine delivers electrical shocks, not enough to kill but enough to scar and fry people’s brains. The second machine makes nerve receptors more sensitive to pain. Hooper sticks circular pads on Melinda’s torso; on her collarbone, her shoulders, her ribs, just above her belly button, her hips.

They have to wait for Melinda to wake up before they can start. Ward calls Pierce when she moves her littlest finger minimally. Pierce doesn’t bother knocking. He barges in and stands at the foot of the table. Melinda does her best to pretend she’s still asleep but Pierce sees through her. He nods to Hooper who turns the first machine on. Melinda jerks as the first electrical shocks come through the pads. Her eyes fly open and she glares at Pierce.

“Now, now,” Pierce rebukes. “Don’t look at me like that, Melinda.”

Melinda gasps out an apology and does her best not to glare. Hooper turns the dial up one and the electric shocks shoot through the wires and into her body more painfully. Melinda grits her teeth and makes a promise to herself not to scream. Hooper ranks the dial up to three and Melinda clenches her fists.

“Why are we doing this?” Pierce asks.

“Because … Because I failed … my mission,” Melinda gets out.

“Do you deserve this?” Pierce asks.

“Yes,” Melinda says, teeth gritted.

“Good girl,” Pierce praises. He nods to Hooper who turns the dial up to five, skipping four.

Melinda lets out a yelp and squirms in her cuffs. Hooper slowly turns the dial up to six. Melinda’s breathing is laboured. Ward drums his fingers on his arm boredly, waiting for the fun to start. Hooper turns the dial up to seven.

“Do you deserve this?” Pierce asks coldly.

“Yes!” Melinda yells, twisting in her bonds. “Yes, I deserve this!” Her voice cracks as she yells, agreeing with Pierce.

Hooper turns the second machine on and twists the dial of the first machine up to eight, then nine, then a pause, then ten.

Melinda screams, her back arching as much as she can in her restraints. She spasms, screaming until her throat hurts and her voice is hoarse. She screams until she realises that the machine has been turned off. She lays limp on the table, trying to listen but the pain is rushing through her still, blocking her ears. Her breathing is shaky. She tries to even it out but all that happens is she can’t breathe. She chokes, struggling under Ward’s hand on her throat. She hadn’t even seen him come over.

“W-Ward,” she gasps. “Pl- _please_.” She tries again to free herself, kicking her legs in the hope that the leather will fall off and the cuffs will snap even though she knows it won’t happen.

“Do you deserve this, Melinda?” Pierce asks.

She nods. Of course she does. She failed her mission and led her team to Pierce’s base.

“Then why are you struggling?” Pierce questions.

She pauses in her struggling. He’s right. She stops and Ward releases her a minute later when she’s passed out. Her neck now has a dark red handprint which will bruise later.

_Melinda’s eyes fall shut. They flicker open a few times before staying closed. Without her pushing the concrete roof up, it squashes her. She doesn’t hear her bones protesting. Her collarbone snaps in two easily. Her ribs have already cracked. A few of the have broken. Her jaw is bruised and the left side of her face has gravel imprinted on it._

 

The quinjet flies over Philadelphia. Bobbi lands it on the roof of a nearby building to the run-down toy factory. They file out of the jet they run in, startling the workers. The toy factory is half a mile away but they sprint the distance. Elena runs into the building, scouting ahead.

“Clear,” she says, coming back.

Bobbi and Hunter take the stairs, searching for any signs of Melinda. They find a blood trail on the stairs and follow it. It leads them to a door with the number twenty-three scorched into it.

Fitz and Simmons hurry around the factory, finding as much as they can about the science Hydra have been doing. They don’t find very much. Coulson and Daisy check the ground floor rooms. They find the little room where Melinda was first kept. There’s blood on the floor and walls, some of it still not dry.

“That means she still must be here,” Coulson says pointing it out to Daisy.

“Or they’ve just left,” Daisy says.

“We would have seen their plane on the way in,” Coulson tells her.

“Not if it was cloaked,” Daisy argues. She turns the light on and quickly turns it back off. She hadn’t realised there was so much blood. Her stomach twists.

“She was recently here,” Coulson concedes and they hurry from the room.

 

Bobbi and Hunter can hear voices in the room with the twenty-three on the door. They get their guns ready – no ICERs, Pierce and Ward don’t deserve that leniency – and Hunter opens the door. Bobbi shoots at Pierce and kicks the woman’s feet out from under her. Ward fires at them. Hunter ducks and shoots back. The exchange bullets until Bobbi whacks Ward in the head from behind with her batons. Ward crumples to the floor. Bobbi shoots him in both legs so he can’t run away and then does the same for Pierce. Hunter ties the three of them up while Bobbi carefully rips the pads off Melinda and unties the leather restraints. Hunter rummages around in Pierce’s pockets for a key but comes up empty.

“I don’t have anything to pick the cuffs with,” Bobbi growls in frustration.

“Can’t you shoot ’em?” Hunter asks.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hunter. That only happens in movies,” Bobbi says, scrounging the floor for a sharp piece of wire or something like that. Hunter checks the woman’s pockets and finds nothing but then he spots a hairpin in her hair. He passes it to Bobbi. “Thanks.” She picks the locks on the cuffs and gently lifts Melinda.

They find the others coming up the stairs. Hunter leads the way, running back to the entrance. He holds open the door and motions for them to hurry up.

“C’mon, hurry up,” he whispers quickly. “I set a bomb and it’s gonna blow.”

“You did what?!” Bobbi exclaims.

“Doesn’t matter, hurry up!” Hunter says.

They race out of the building just in time. It blows up behind them. Bobbi bends over Melinda and runs faster. The half mile to the building they’d landed the quinjet on feels like ten thousand miles. The manager tries to stop them but they just run past him and onto the roof.

Standing by the jet is ten Hydra agents.

“Go, go!” Coulson shouts, pushing his team behind a brick wall about five feet high and five feet wide. On the top of it is a chimney, pushing smoke into the air.

Bobbi shoots three of the agents and Coulson shoots one before Daisy uses her powers to flip their guns out of their hands. She throws them off the roof and sends them into the burning building Hunter had just blown up.

Jemma hugs Daisy once they’re all on board the jet. Then she goes back to helping Melinda who’s still out cold.

Once they’re back at SHIELD HQ, they let Medical take Melinda. Coulson gives them all free time and they somehow all gather in the common room. Jemma puts on a Disney movie and someone makes popcorn but Daisy doesn’t know who. She can’t watch the movie, even though it’s her favourite. She keeps seeing that room, all that blood. There was so much blood. How Melinda is still alive, she doesn’t know.


	10. Coming out

Melinda wakes up in a containment cell. There are no windows. The walls are made out of concrete. The bed she’s laying on has a thin mattress and a sorry excuse for a blanket. She tries to sit up but finds that the pain is too much. There is no reason for her to cause trouble yet and there’s no guarantee that they’re actually watching her through the camera so she goes back to sleep.

_Melinda can’t breathe. She panics, kicking uselessly before she gets herself under control. She presses her hands onto the roof and pushes upwards. She’s amazed she got her hands in the right position at all. The pressure only eases up a little bit but it feels like heaven._

 

A week and a half later, when the drugs have gone from her body and she can move around a little bit, they come into her cell. Fury orders the agents to take her to someplace else but she isn’t listening. It’s too bright. She isn’t used to it. She sleeps on the way there to the place she’s being taken. Fury shakes her awake roughly. He hands her a gun and then leaves. She takes it and looks up. Her breath catches.

Coulson is standing at the other side of the room. There’s no camera or window so she’s not entirely sure how they’re going to stop her when she pulls the trigger. She aims the gun at him and he steps forward. She frowns. This is so obviously a trap. A switch flicks in her brain. She tries to check the chamber but it’s screwed shut. Ah. She smirks. Well, if there’s a bullet, then they’ve lost one of their best agents and she’s back in Pierce’s good books but if there isn’t a bullet, they’ll keep her locked up for the rest of her lifetime.

She thinks it through. If she doesn’t pull the trigger, she’ll still stay locked up but maybe not for the rest of her life. If she does pull the trigger she’ll most likely stay locked up for forever.

She pulls the trigger. Coulson doesn’t look surprised. A bullet spins out of the barrel. She’s surprised. She hadn’t thought there would be a bullet. It gets halfway and then stops. The bullet-proof glass wall separating them now has thin white lines like spider webs spreading from the small dent the bullet made. Melinda closes her eyes and swears. She drops the gun and lets the SHIELD agents take her away. She sees her ex-team on her way back to her cell. She smirks at them.

In her cell, she lays on the bed and rests. She sleeps for two days. It’s nice being allowed to sleep. She should really stop sleeping for so long so that she won’t have to get used to it again if Pierce ever busts her out again.

She looks away from the ceiling as the door opens. An agent comes in holding a stack of clothes. Melinda takes them but doesn’t change. The agent leaves quickly. Still, Melinda doesn’t change. She’s quite happy in her bloodied and ripped clothes. She should probably change her T-shirt, though, considering her one is ripped almost everywhere and is barely being held together but she doesn’t. She doesn’t change clothes as an act of defiance. Not even when Fury tells her she’s going to face the jury and she might want to look at least a little presentable. She just spits at him.

“Who are you?” he asks.

Melinda laughs. He’s the only one who’s asked that. “Agent Melinda May. Or I used to be, at least.”

“Used to be?” Fury asks, pouncing on it.

“Well, if I’m facing the jury, I probably won’t be an agent anymore,” Melinda shrugs. She moves into the next stage of her tai chi. She’s glad that she knows how to do it. It’s very calming even if it hurts.

“Put the damn clothes on,” Fury says before leaving, his black coat swishing behind him.

Melinda ignores him. She sits on the bed and meditates.

The day when she faces the jury comes and she walks with her head held high, despite being handcuffed, easily the shortest person there and stinking of blood. Her ex-team is sitting at the back of the courtroom. The courtroom is a long hall with a lot of wooden pews for people to watch. Behind the judge’s seat, there is a stained glass window of a dove.

The jury and judge don’t tell her their names, probably as an act of power. She sits beside Fury and waits for it to be over. They spend ages going over the formalities. She zones out until she hears her name being called.

“Yes?” she asks.

She hears Fury sigh.

“Do you admit to giving Hydra information that would otherwise not have reached their prying ears?” the main judge asks. He has no neck.

“Yes,” she says.

No-neck must not have been expecting that because there’s a small pause.

“Do you admit to collaborating with Hydra and trying to kill several members of SHIELD?” No-neck asks. He leans forward.

“Yep,” she agrees. “Shame I didn’t, isn’t it?”

There’s an angry silence.

“Do you plead guilty or not guilty?” No-neck asks.

“Well, I don’t think I’m guilty,” Melinda says, “But you guys probably do so I’ll say both.”

“She pleads guilty,” Fury says.

“I do?” Melinda asks.

“Did you do it or not?” Fury asks, wishing that Melinda could be a little less troublesome.

“I did,” Melinda says.

“Then you’re guilty,” Fury explains.

“But I don’t think I’m guilty,” Melinda protests.

“So you’re pleading not guilty?” No-neck asks.

“Well, I did it, didn’t I?” Melinda says, just to make them even more confused.

“So you’re guilty?” No-neck clarifies.

“No,” Melinda smiles.

“Yes,” Fury says over her. “Yes, she pleads guilty.” He kicks her shin. She kicks him back. He stands on her feet and she elbows him.

“Would you please stop acting like a child?” Fury hisses while the jury converses over the facts they’ve been given.

Melinda smirks at him. “Twenty bucks it’s a life sentence?”

Fury ignores her.

Once the jury has finished, No-neck speaks.

“We have made a decision,” he says. “Melinda May will be stripped of the title agent and be given a life sentence.”

“Told you so,” Melinda mutters.

“Don’t make deals with villains,” Fury mutters back.

“I’m not a villain,” Melinda says quietly, pretending to be offended.

“Shut up and listen,” Fury says as No-neck reads out a list of what she’s allowed to have and not have, do and not do.

After he’s finished, everyone files out. Melinda is the last person to leave, surrounded by heavily armed SHIELD agents. She’s taken to a small grey room. The agents surrounding her tell her to sit. She stays standing.

About five minutes later, a small pink-haired woman comes in. She pats Melinda down, checking everywhere for concealed weapons or recording devices. Melinda’s rag of a T-shirt goes in the bin. The pink-haired woman unwraps the bandages and pokes around in Melinda’s wounds, just to be doubly sure. Melinda bites her lip but doesn’t make a sound. Then she rewraps Melinda’s wounds with clean bandages. One of the agents unlocks Melinda’s handcuffs and she tries to fight, even though she has no chance. The pink-haired women pins her before she can even punch someone. A lock of red hair slips free. Melinda curses as Natasha pulls off the wig.

“Well, if it isn’t the assassin hoping for a second chance,” Melinda says casually like she’s saying hello.

“You’re one to talk. What happened to protecting Phil?” Natasha raises her eyebrows.

Melinda shrugs. “That was never my main goal.”

Natasha snorts. “That’s a lie. Remember when he died?”

Melinda rolls her eyes. “Are you seriously just going to keep pestering me about this because I managed to fool you all?”

“Are your nightmares fooling us, too?” Natasha asks quietly.

Melinda falls silent. Then she lifts her chin. “Yes.”

Natasha hands her a T-shirt and waits for Melinda to put it on. Melinda doesn’t.

“I can wait all day,” Natasha tells her. “It’s cold where you’re going. You’ll want it.”

“Can’t be colder than you,” Melinda shrugs.

Natasha smirks. “Just you wait.” She straightens. “Alright. Pants off.”

“No,” Melinda refuses.

Natasha doesn’t bother asking again; she attacks Melinda and is about to pin her when Melinda retaliates. They exchange blows. Natasha flips backwards out of Melinda’s reach. The armed agents move out of the way, lining the walls and door. Melinda ducks under Natasha's fist and wraps her legs around her waist. Natasha runs backwards into a wall but Melinda jumps off.

Natasha flies at Melinda and traps her in the corner. Melinda twists in an attempt to escape but Natasha grabs her shoulders, spins her and slams her against the wall. For a second, Melinda is reminded of all the times Ward did that and she squirms in a panic before she reins it in and remembers where she is.

“T-shirt,” Natasha barks and one of the agents passes it to her.

Melinda tries to escape but she gets stuck in the T-shirt, her view covered by the fabric. Natasha snorts.

“Well done,” Natasha says, helping Melinda stick her arms through the armholes. “Now, pants off.”

“No,” Melinda says. She might not have any weapons on her but she’s not going to make it easy for the Black Widow.

Natasha mutters something in Russian. “You two,” she says, pointing at two of the agents. “Her arms. You two, her legs. You, help out.”

The agents do as Natasha requests and even though Melinda does her best, she’s overpowered. Natasha unbuttons Melinda’s jeans and slides them off, making sure she doesn’t catch them on any of Melinda’s wounds. Natasha moves swiftly and efficiently. She makes sure Melinda isn’t hiding anything anywhere and then lets Melinda stand up. She passes her a clean pair of jeans. Melinda reaches for her old jeans, just to be stubborn but Natasha blocks her. Melinda gives her a dirty look but pulls on the clean jeans.

“Hands, please,” Natasha requests, not expecting Melinda to obey. Just as she thought, Melinda ignores her, backing away.

The agents hold her in place. Three of them hold her shoulders and arms and the other two wrestle her arms out in front of her. Natasha spots the ring almost instantly.

“What’s this?” she asks. “Coulson propose to you?”

Melinda makes a face and snatches her hand back. She’s going to be discovered, she’s sure of it.

“You can have it back once SHIELD has made sure there isn’t anything dodgy about it,” Natasha tries to compromise.

_‘Please,’ Melinda groans. She needs Natasha to hurry up. She can’t have much more time to go before she’s snuffed out._

Melinda narrows her eyes. Natasha sighs and grabs Melinda’s hand. Melinda clenches her fist.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Natasha exclaims. “It’s just a ring.” She hopes that if it means something to Melinda, she can bait her into saying why.

Natasha dislocates Melinda’s finger and twists the ring off. It’s stupidly easy but Melinda seems to be panicking the closer she gets to pulling the ring off. Natasha pauses.

“Does this ring mean that much to you?” Natasha asks in disbelief.

 _‘Natasha, hurry …_ up _.” Melinda grits her teeth. So close. It’d be such a shame if she were to fail when she was this close to being free._

“Yes,” Melinda says, going for honesty in the hope that Natasha will let her keep it.

“Maybe you’ll learn from your mistakes, then,” Natasha says, pocketing the ring.

There’s a loud _bang!_ and they turn away instinctively.

When they turn back, a bruised and battered Melinda is collapsed on the floor. Natasha is pretty sure both her ankles are dislocated. Her ribs are cracked or broken, some of them maybe crushed. Her collarbone is in two, there are bruises on every part on her body, her left wrist is broken, one side of her face is cut and bruised, her fingers are red, her knuckles are bloody.

“What the hell?” one of the agents mutters.

Another prods her with his toe before his comrade slaps him.

Natasha crouches down beside her. “Melinda?” She taps Melinda’s face gently but she doesn’t respond.

Then Natasha noticed the blood leaking out of Melinda’s body, spreading out into a pool.

“Get a medic,” she orders. No one moves. “Now!” she yells and two of them race out of the room as fast as their legs can carry them.

Natasha does her best with the little rolls of bandages she has but it won’t be enough. A team of medics burst in, carrying a stretcher. Even though Melinda betrayed SHIELD, there are still some agents who are hoping to find evidence that it wasn’t Melinda and some of those agents are medics.

Melinda is rushed into an operating room. They cut away her fresh T-shirt and jeans and stitch gashes, set bones and bandage wounds. They can’t do much for her bruises but the give her a dose of morphine for the pain when she wakes up which knocks her out again.

Natasha takes the ring to the science department and gets them to check it out, giving them strict instructions not to put it on. Fitz is part of the team, hoping to find something that will prove that Melinda didn’t do it and she wasn’t like Ward, just there to get information, spy on them. On the third day he when he x-rays it, he finds a few small wires running through it. He frowns. They shouldn’t be there. Wires aren’t needed in making rings. He takes it to Jemma who finds a finger for them to test it on. When they put the ring on the finger, the ring shifts almost unnoticeably but they were watching it very closely. When Jemma takes the ring off the finger, they can’t see anything until they put it under a microscope. Tiny little pinpricks. Eleven of them. Fitz and Simmons look at each other in horror.

“This ring is alive,” Jemma whispers.

“I’ll get Medical,” Fitz says. “We have to be sure May has the same pricks.”

When they put Melinda’s finger under the microscope, it takes them a while but they manage to locate eleven pinpricks. Just by accident, Jemma moves Melinda’s arm and they’re looking at her wrist instead, which has the same pinpricks, just more of them.

“Nineteen,” Fitz counts.

Jemma smooths Melinda’s hair back from her face. “When she wakes up, we’ll need to use her as a test to make sure we’re right about this. We’ll put the ring on her, give her the gun, no bullet this time and put her and Coulson in the same room. Then we’ll take the ring off her and do it again.”

Fitz nods in agreement. “That seems like a good plan. Where’s Coulson?”

“Probably in his office,” Jemma says. “That’s where he usually is.” She checks the time. “Or in his bed, sleeping, considering it’s just past midnight.”

“Is it?” Fitz says in surprise. “Wasn’t it lunch just an hour ago?”

“I thought so. Apparently not,” Jemma says. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Fitz swallows and kisses her cheek. She smiles softly at him and hugs him.

“See you tomorrow.”

 

Melinda wakes up slowly. The bright lights hurt her eyes after so many weeks of being able to see only a few millimetres in front of her face. She squeezes her eyes shut and lifts her hands and waves them in the air. She can’t bend her fingers – there are bandages tightly wrapped, restricting her movement – but she’s under her own control again. She laughs out of pure joy. She wiggles the rest of her body and can’t keep the smile off her face. Then a doctor comes in and presses a button and she’s out cold again but this time, she’s happy.

When she wakes up again, FitzSimmons – Leo and Jemma – are sitting beside her bed. Jemma is holding something. They both look nervous. She squints at them painfully, thankful that somebody has turned the lights down.

“May,” Fitz begins. “We found … uh, in the ring you were wearing, um… it was controlling you, right?”

Melinda just stares at them. They know. She makes herself nod before they scarper.

“I’m really sorry about this, then, Melinda,” Jemma says and she cuffs her wrists and ankles.

Melinda tries to shuffle away but she can’t move very far. Jemma shows Melinda the ring and goes to put it on her finger. Melinda panics. No! Not when she’s just been freed. She can’t. Her expression must be terrified because Jemma hesitates.

“ _Jemma_ ,” Melinda pleads. “Jemma, _please_.”

“Do it,” Fitz says. “We have to be certain.”

“No! No no no no no!” Melinda begs in terror. “Don’t!”

Jemma slips the rings onto her finger and Melinda screams.

 _‘No!’ Melinda screams. She was so close. She was free! What the hell was Jemma doing? Why? They_ knew _it controlled her. She beats her fists against the concrete walls which are closing in on her again quickly until she’s flat on her back again. Her legs shake as she holds the roof up with her feet. The rough texture cuts into her bare feet._

Melinda smirks at them. “You know what would have made my day?” she asks.

They haul her into a wheelchair without answering. Melinda doesn’t protest.

“Killing you all,” and she says it with such conviction that they believe her.

Coulson is waiting for them in the room. The glass has been swept into a pile in the corner. Jemma unlocks Melinda’s cuffs, hands her the same gun as the one she’d tried to shot Coulson with and leaves quickly. Melinda stands up and studies the gun. It looks exactly the same but she’s pretty sure new holes have been drilled which might be just a trick to get her to shoot the gun but when she shakes it, she can hear something.

Melinda makes sure there is no glass, no nothing separating her and Phil Coulson. She rests the gun on his forehead and makes a split-second decision. He doesn’t even blink. He just stares straight back at her, never once breaking eye contact.

She pulls the trigger.

Coulson smirks. “It’s a blank,” he explains.

Yes. She knows. Like she was going to say it was a carrot. Moron.

Bobbi comes into the room and handcuffs her despite her attempts at knocking Bobbi out. Or killing. Either one suits her. Hunter pulls off the ring and there is a loud _bang!_ just like when Natasha was searching Melinda for weapons. Melinda lays on the floor, breathing hard. Despite it only have been twenty minutes, her feet are cut up and bleeding. Bobbi hands her a different gun and they leave the room. The door shuts. It’s just her and Coulson. _Phil_. She winces when her feet touch the ground. She picks up the gun. It’s a test. There isn’t actually a bullet. They wouldn’t be so stupid as to risk Coulson’s life.

Or maybe they would. It seems like the sort of thing Fury would do.

She aims the gun at his chest. His heart, to be specific. Her hand shakes so she brings her other hand up to steady the gun. Her finger tightens on the trigger. She bites her lip and curses herself for being so damn weak. It’s just Coulson. It’s a test. She has to shoot him.

_He visited her every day for a month after Bahrain until she told him to get lost. After that, he brought her lunch every Monday and Thursday to make sure she was eating at least twice a day._

She has to shoot him. There isn’t even a bullet in the gun.

 _He makes her tea every morning so it will be ready for her by the time she finishes training_.

Just shoot him already! she yells mentally at herself.

 _He kissed her once, on the Zephyr, and his lips were so soft_.

She can’t. Her hands are shaking too badly for her to be able to actually shoot him. She throws the gun on the floor and glares at him through watery eyes.

“Happy now?” she asks.

“Very,” he says.

Her bottom lip trembles and she wipes her eyes with the back of her hand furiously. She sniffs wetly and limps away from him, crossing her arms. She knows she shouldn’t turn her back to him but she can’t look at him. She sits in the wheelchair and waits for them to take her back to her cell.

Jemma and Leo – no, FitzSimmons; she doesn’t have the right to call them by their first names anymore – wheel her to Medical.

“I’m _fine_ ,” she argues.

“Your feet are bleeding,” Simmons tells her, wrestling her onto a bed.

“You’re bleeding,” she retorts, wincing when she pokes a bruise accidentally.

“Oh yeah? Where?” she asks as she finds a roll of bandages.

Melinda stares at the floor, not answering.

Fitz cleans the blood off her feet and picks the little bits of rock out. “Where does this rock even come from?”

Melinda goes silent. She doesn’t want to tell them about all the times she screamed out at them, hitting the walls of her cage even though she knew they’d never hear her. She doesn’t want that guilt weighing on their shoulders. If there even _is_ any guilt, she thinks to herself. She’ll save them from that. She didn’t save them from much else, she tells herself bitterly. This is the least she can do.

Simmons is about to say something but then Daisy comes in and she falls silent.

Melinda’s gaze falls to the angry white bandage on Daisy’s arm. It’s covering all her upper arm. Melinda swallows. There is still blood leaking out; she can see the red stains. Daisy grins at her.

“So you aren’t an evil demon mind-controlled brat anymore?” she asks teasingly.

Melinda swallows. She can’t take her eyes off the bandage. She should say something. Laugh. Joke about it. Let them think it was nothing.

“I’m not a brat,” she manages but it sounds forced.

Daisy’s smile disappears and Melinda curses herself. Make them happy. Do something, she scolds. She still can’t look away from Daisy’s arm. If it’s still bleeding, it can’t have scabbed over yet. She hits herself mentally. Scabbed over? It will have needed stitches.

“It’s okay,” Daisy says softly. “Or it will be, at least.”

It won’t. How can they all forgive her so easily? She betrayed them. She hurt them.


	11. In control

Melinda tries to go back to her cell but they find her and tell her she doesn’t need to stay in there anymore and that she’s an agent again, Fury spoke to the jury and they confirmed it. So she avoids them and hides in the vents. It’s a tight fit and she pulls her stitches on her torso. Not all of them, just some but she’s not sure from which wounds. She rolls onto her back awkwardly and presses her hand to her stomach. Her hand is immediately covered in blood. She wonders if they’ll find her if she dies. She almost wants to find out. Then she curses herself. She’ll be taking the easy way out if she dies and she doesn’t deserve that.

She doesn’t remember falling asleep but she must have because she can’t hear the busy chatter that follows the SHIELD hallways. She tries to crawl on her elbows and feet. Her ankles scream at her and she lets out a yelp. She immediately lets the pressure up and flops onto the metal which just hurts her ribs and collarbone and shoulders. She groans but continues shuffling towards a grate. She fumbles with it, her fingers heavy but eventually she gets it open. She steels herself and she slides out, feet first. She stops herself by hanging onto it but her shoulders yell at her and her hands screech loudly in protest. She drops to the floor, hurting herself even more. Melinda drags herself over to lean against the wall, leaving a smear of blood in her path. She stays there until Daisy runs past, skidding to a stop when she sees her.

“Melinda!” Daisy exclaims, taking everything in.

Melinda lifts her head up to look at Daisy. Her eyes are glazed over and her face is pale with a sheen of sweat.

“Oh my God, May!” Daisy says, eyes wide, texting Jemma to get a Medical bed ready. “C’mon, let’s get you patched up.”

Melinda cries out when her feet touch the ground. Daisy scoops her up instantly, grumbling under her breath about Melinda needing to look after herself better. She picks up to a run until she looks down and sees Melinda’s screwed up face, trying not to show any pain.

“You should have said it hurt,” Daisy mutters as she slows to a quick walk. She enters Medical and places Melinda on the bed Jemma has ready.

Jemma pulls Melinda’s T-shirt off and cleans away the blood. She stitches the gashes that had their stitches pulled and berates Melinda on the stupidity of trying to use the vents when she was injured.

“Do you have no regard for your personal safety?” Jemma snaps. “We do actually like you, believe it or not, and we would prefer it if you weren’t dead or injured!”

Melinda just looks up at her dazedly, not taking it in. Actually like her? Rubbish. Not since she hurt Daisy and betrayed them all.

Jemma pokes one of Melinda’s wounds to snap her out of her daze. Melinda jerks and winces, staring at Jemma in surprise.

“We like you. We care about you. We don’t want you injured or dead,” Jemma says, trying to drill it into Melinda’s head.

Melinda snorts and then thinks she probably shouldn’t have done that because Jemma exchanges a worried glance with Daisy.

“I’m getting Coulson,” Daisy says and runs out of Medical. Ten minutes later she re-enters with Coulson in tow. “She doesn’t think we like her,” she says, pointing at Melinda.

“What? That’s ridiculous,” Coulson says. He doesn’t bother mentioning he kissed her when she was being controlled. “Everyone likes you.”

Melinda opens her mouth but Coulson interrupts her.

“You don’t get it, do you? It wasn’t you who hurt Daisy. _You_ didn’t shoot me. That was _Pierce_. It wasn’t _you_ ,” he says firmly. “It. Wasn’t. You.”

Melinda sits up and swings her legs over the side of the bed. No one stops her. She hisses in pain and has to hold onto the side of the bed to stay upright.

“That’s only going to make it worse,” Jemma says, going over and wrapping an arm around her waist, taking some of the weight off Melinda’s ankles.

“I’m fine,” Melinda says, trying to keep moving forward.

Jemma stops her and pulls her back to the bed. “You need to rest,” she says. “Conserve your energy.”

Melinda’s knees buckle and she falls forward. Her wrist, which was sprained, breaks when she flings it out in an attempt to stop herself. She yells out, curling in on herself so her shoulder takes the brunt of her weight. She inhales sharply, tears welling up. Coulson crouches down beside her and sits her up. He pries her fingers from her wrist and feels it gently.

“Broken,” he announces. He lifts her up and she leans away from him.

“What colour cast would you like?” Jemma asks.

“Black,” Melinda says. She always chose colourful casts before Bahrain but now, she doesn’t deserve colour. She doesn’t deserve their love and care. If they still do, her mind tells her scornfully.

Jemma doesn’t look surprised and she finds a black roll. When she’s finished wrapping it around Melinda’s wrist, she taps it lightly to make sure it’s firm.

“All done,” she says cheerfully. “Now, I’ll just take a look at your ankles while you’re here.” Melinda walking has done her no good. Jemma frowns. Almost broken. “I’m going to have to give you casts for your ankles as well instead of moon boots, considering they’re almost broken. What colours would you like?”

“I don’t want casts,” Melinda grumbles.

“Then you shouldn’t have walked,” Jemma says coolly.

Melinda makes a face at her. “I don’t want casts,” she repeats.

“How about black again?” Jemma suggests.

Melinda scowls because she doesn’t want casts. Casts are itchy and scratchy and her ankles aren’t even broken. The casts go up to just below her knees. She’s about to leave, even if she has to crawl but Jemma sticks a needle in her arm and she’s out like a light.

“So what are we gonna do about this whole ‘I don’t deserve you’ thing?” Daisy asks.

“Well, we could always pester her until she realises like you do,” Jemma teases.

“That’s a brilliant idea, actually,” Coulson says. “Little things at a time.”

 

Melinda wakes up alone. There’s a wheelchair waiting beside her bed. She rolls over and tries to get comfortable but the bed feels like steel. She rubs her wrist that isn’t broken absentmindedly and winces. Then her eyes close and she forgets everything.

She dreams she’s in a steel cage. The cage is closing in on her. It squashes her into dust despite her pleading. She screams and then the cage disappears and she can see Ward closing in on her. She tries to back away but her back hits a brick wall and ropes spring out, lashing her to the wall. She screams again, struggling to no avail. Ward shifts into Pierce who swallows her mouth. She can’t breathe, can’t see, can’t move.

She wakes up with a gasp, eyes flying open. She’s breathing heavily. Her team is surrounding her. They aren’t her team anymore, even if they say they are. They’re too good for her. She lays back down and tries to control her heartbeat.

 

“Melinda,” Phil says gently and it’s in the way he says it and she needs him to be Phil, not Coulson and he sounds so sweet and…

She wants to launch herself at him and cling to him, bury her face in his shirt. But she doesn’t, because why would he want to touch her? She turns away from him, curling in on herself. She feels like she’s an oddity, something to stare at, with the way she’s on the bed and they’re all just watching her. No one stops her when she swings her legs over the edge of the bed. She collapses into the wheelchair. She’s not stupid enough to walk. It hurts to push with her broken wrist but she tells herself she deserves it. Daisy’s arm probably hurt more. Probably still does.

She finds a secluded hallway and sits there and waits. For what, she doesn’t know. She just sits there. When she hears Coulson’s footsteps coming towards her, she wheels herself away. He catches up to her easily, what with her broken wrist being no help at all.

“Melinda,” he says gently, “Please stop running away.”

She continues wheeling herself away in the hope that he’ll leave her be.

“Clint flew in today,” he says.

Melinda doesn’t answer. It would be better if Clint could just go away. He’s happy. He’s got Natasha and Tony and Bruce and Steve and Thor. He won’t be happy for much longer if he visits her. Speak of the devil, Melinda thinks as Clint strolls around the corner up ahead. She turns around abruptly.

“Hey, Mel!” Clint grins, running over. “Heard you got kidnapped in your own mind.”

Melinda refuses to meet his eyes. She stares stonily at the ground instead. She tries to wheel herself away but Clint takes the handles on the back of the wheelchair and stops her.

“Hey,” he protests, looking confused. “Where are you going?”

She doesn’t answer, just keeps trying, despite the pain in her wrist.

“Melinda, please,” Coulson says quietly.

She tries one last time before giving up. Her wrist is killing her. She can feel Clint staring at her.

Coulson places his hand on Clint’s shoulder and leads him away.

“Don’t break anything,” he calls to Melinda over his shoulder. He takes Clint to his office and explains everything that has happened.

Clint winces. “Ouch.”

“Just be a little more gentle,” Coulson advises.

 

Melinda avoids them all. When she does run into them, she answers with short, clipped words or not at all. She doesn’t meet their eyes. Simmons clears her from Medical and she spends her days in the vents, hiding, or wheeling herself through the crowded hallways.

Fury finds her and orders her to his office. She follows him slowly, wincing every time her wrist makes contact with the handrim. He sighs.

“Let me help with that,” he says, taking the handles and pushing her.

“No!” she says with surprising ferocity. She needs this. Needs the pain to remind herself how they would have felt when they found out she betrayed them.

He doesn’t let go so she puts the brakes on.

“Agent May, take the brakes off and let me push you,” he demands.

She doesn’t move. It’s an order but she can’t make herself comply.

“That’s an _order,_ Agent May,” he snaps.

She moves, but not to take the brakes off. She tries to stand but her ankles protest and her legs fall out from underneath her. Fury catches her and pushes her back into the wheelchair. He takes the brakes off and pushes her, noting the way she curls in on herself, shoulders hunching.

He reaches his office and wheels her in. His office is bare, no personal trinkets like Coulson’s. The walls have a few picture frames that he’s not allowed to take down. Secretly, he kind of likes the pictures, having formed an attachment to them over the years. The leather chair behind the sturdy desk is well worn, ripped in some places and multiple patches. Most people would call Fury a man who cares about nothing, but despite Maria’s many attempts to get rid of the chair, it’s still there. His desk has files heaped in tidy stacks on either side of his computer which is shut down completely and locked with three separate passwords.

Melinda scowls at her feet. If she could walk, she could fight her way out of here. No. No, she couldn’t fight her way out of here. Even if they were brainwashed and trying to kill her. She’d let them, she’s sure of it.

“So,” Fury begins, sitting down at his desk and leaning forward on his elbows. He studies her intently like he’s trying to see inside her head. “What’s going on?”

“If I wanted a therapist, I’d find one,” she says, voice laced with a tinge of ice.

“Well, I found you,” he shrugs, undeterred. “What’s happened? After all of your missions when one of you two idiots get hurt, you always hug. Every. Single. One.” He pauses for dramatic effects. Even after everything, he’s still a drama queen at heart. “But not this one.”

The silence grows in the room until it floods out the door, squeezing through the gaps. The agents walking past quicken their pace until they’re out of yelling reach.

“Why not?” he asks and his tone says she will answer.

She shrugs. “I don’t have to.”

“So you’re going to break your hugging streak because you _don’t have to_?”

“Yes. And I don’t see how this is any of your business,” she says and the tinge of ice upgrades to a ton of icebergs.

“It’s my business because I’m not having one of my best agents failing missions ’cause she’s miserable!” he ends on a shout. “Miserable because she doesn’t think she deserves Coulson or the rest of the team or _any love whatsoever_!”

Melinda mutters something under her breath. Fury can go to hell, for all she cares. Then she curses herself. Fury’s done nothing wrong, unlike her.

“It’s not your fault,” Fury says, voice gentler than it’s ever been before.

Melinda snorts derisively. Of course it is. No one else shot Coulson. No one else knifed Daisy. No one else _infiltrated_ SHIELD.

“You were being controlled,” Fury tries again. He wants his best agent back. He doesn’t want her roaming the halls every day because she’s hiding from her team. He does care.

Melinda shrugs. So? Didn’t stop her doing it. She pointedly ignores the fact that she tried to stop herself.

“Right, of course, my mistake. Of course, you did it on your own free will. That’s why you reacted so badly to seeing the ring when FitzSimmons tested their theory,” Fury says sarcastically. “Give me your hands.”

Melinda glares at the ground. She doesn’t move.

Fury takes her hand without the cast and taps her bandaged knuckles. She winces.

“You fought. I don’t know where you were trapped, but you fought,” he says. “You tried your best.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t enough,” Melinda says bitterly.

“You did enough,” Fury repeats.

“Still wasn’t enough,” Melinda says again, turning herself around and heading for the door.

Fury lets her go.

She joins the steady stream of agents and curses the pain in her wrist.

 

Coulson finds her in an empty room a week later, just staring at the wall. “I think there’s supposed to be a meeting here.”

“Really?” Melinda says. “I’m not seeing anyone here.”

“There’s a bunch of agents standing outside the door,” Coulson says with a smile.

“Cowards,” Melinda mutters under her breath. She wheels herself out of the room and heads towards her bunk. She wheels herself into her bunk and tries to shut the door on him but he steps in quickly.

“Your casts come off in three weeks,” Coulson says. “Try not to walk too much, okay?”

 

Three weeks go by in the blink of an eye. Melinda has let her ankles heal as much as she can bear because she can’t bear to see Phil’s disappointed face. Simmons cuts her casts off and she rotates her ankles. There’s a little bit of pain but not enough to keep her from walking.

“Minimum walking, okay?” Simmons tells her.

She nods like a good little agent and takes the wheelchair offered. She has no intention of using it once she gets out of the Med Bay but Simmons doesn’t need to know that.

She hides in her bunk for a week until Daisy gets sick of her crap and forces her to come out into the real world. She limps down the hallway, following Daisy who gives her little reassuring smiles. It’s annoying.

Daisy holds open the door to the common room and Melinda freezes.

“No,” she says. “No, Daisy.”

Daisy frowns. “You’ve been in your bunk long enough. We’ve missed you.”

Melinda’s missed them too, but she can’t go near them. She’ll just hurt them.

“Is that Melinda?” Bobbi calls out.

“Yeah,” Daisy replies before she can stop her.

“Awesome!” Bobbi cheers.

Melinda hears footsteps and swallows, staring at the ground. Bobbi wraps her in a hug.

“Good to see you again,” she murmurs. “Real you, not the controlled brat we had.”

Melinda holds herself stiffly until Bobbi lets her go.

“Hey,” Bobbi says gently, putting one finger under Melinda’s chin and tipping her face up, “It wasn’t your fault. Any of the rest of us would have gotten controlled too.”

Melinda shrugs, not looking at Bobbi. It’s not the same. She’s supposed to protect them. She’s known the girl since she scouted her at the Academy. They’d become friends gotten drunk together, stitched each other up. Now she’s acting like they’re all strangers who’ve barely known each other for a day.

“Come in, get yourself a beer,” Bobbi suggests. “You don’t have to talk. Just sit and watch.”

Melinda shrugs again. She wants to go back to her bunk but she doesn’t want to see the disappointed looks on their faces. She takes a small step towards the door, wrapping her arms around herself. Bobbi smiles at her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder for a minute before letting her go. She knows that Melinda doesn’t want to be touched.

Melinda sits at the table, away from them, occasionally sipping from the bottle of beer Hunter had handed her when she’d entered. She watches them out of the corner of her eyes. Elena’s curled up next to Mack, telling a story. She’s not listening much, but she’s pretty sure it’s embarrassing Mack because he keeps trying to put his hand over his mouth.

Coulson comes over and sits down beside her after a while. She gives him an awkward smile, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Take all the time you need,” he says. “Just please, Melinda, don’t blame yourself for this.”

Melinda nods, even though she has no intention of not blaming herself for this mess. If she’d just been quicker, stronger, smarter. If she’d just tried harder.

She gave up, when she was trapped. She gave up and that was her fault. Only hers. There is no one else to blame for this.


	12. Coward's way out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAY HAVE TRIGGERS. WARNING: contains talk of suicide.

Over the course of the week, Melinda becomes well acquainted with the hidey-holes in the base. She lets her ankles heal, mainly so she can stop going to the check-ups Simmons insists on twice a week. She claims the second supply closet in the south-east corner of the base as hers, emptying the room and leaving it in the supply closet in the south-west corner. She changes the access code on her bunk and turns away when she sees the look on Phil’s face. What he doesn’t know is she’s changed it to the day they first met.

She walks into the Med Bay, head down, ignoring the slight pain in her ankles. Simmons smiles brightly and guides her over to the same bed as last week. She rolls her jeans up and kicks her boots off. Simmons presses down lightly on the slightly inflamed area.

“Does it still hurt?” she asks.

Melinda shrugs. Not enough to stop her. “Sometimes.” Sometimes, when she’s been standing too long, a spark of pain goes coursing up and down her legs and doesn’t stop, even when she sits down.

“They should be all healed in a couple of weeks,” Simmons says.

Melinda wishes she’d stop smiling and pretending like everything is fine. She nods, still not looking at her.

Simmons takes Melinda’s hand. Melinda stiffens.

“I don’t blame you,” she says, looking at Melinda until she looks up at her. “It wasn’t your fault and I’m going to say it until you believe me. I’ll forgive you for something you didn’t do.”

But I did do it, she wants to say. It was me.

“Alright,” Simmons says when it becomes clear that Melinda isn’t going to say a word. “You’re free to go. I’ve stocked up your cupboard with food and blankets so you don’t have to strain your ankles with moving.”

Melinda shrugs, still not looking at the biochemist. She struggles to mask her surprise that Simmons knew where she’d moved to. She hadn’t thought any of them would pay attention to her.

“Your bunk’s still yours if you decide you’d like to move back,” Simmons says, a last attempt to get a response.

Melinda figures she owes Simmons as much. “Okay,” she says quietly and it’s worth it when she sees the girl’s face light up. Simmons isn’t a girl anymore, not a kid that has to be looked after. Now she’s a young woman, a brilliant scientist who can do anything she sets her mind to, not afraid of anything.

She walks out of the Med Bay and into Daisy. She mumbles an apology and goes to walk around her but she steps into her path. Melinda looks up, confused. Is this Daisy’s revenge? Because if so, it’s kind of petty.

“Please don’t push us away,” Daisy begs. She’s not above begging if it means Melinda will listen.

Daisy looks near tears and Melinda hates that she’s the cause. She looks at the ground, her shoulders folding in on themselves.

“No one blames you,” Daisy tries.

Melinda just walks around Daisy and carries on her way to her bunk. She doesn’t want Simmons’s food or blankets. She doesn’t want their help.

She kneels down and stretches out her hand, feeling around under her bed. Her hand closes around the butt of her gun. It’s not an ICER. She tucks it into the waistband of her jeans and exits her bunk, locking it behind her.

She makes her way to the hangar. She remembers the Triskellion’s hangar when it was bustling with agents, all with a purpose. This hangar in HQ is empty. Empty and lonely. Like her. Maybe that’s why she’s chosen this place.

She climbs the ladder to the top of the hangar and looks down at the Zephyr. It’s a beautiful plane, moves gracefully beneath her hands. It’s just a shame that now it’s tainted with such bad memories.

She pulls the gun out and presses it against her head. There’s only one bullet. She’ll only need the one. She hears footsteps pounding along the floor, the echo reaching her ears. She lowers the gun and peers down. Daisy. Damn it. She hadn’t realised she was standing in front of a camera. She raises it to her head again, just above her ear. The barrel of the gun is cold and unforgiving.

“May! May, stop, don’t please!” Daisy pleads as she climbs the ladder to where Melinda’s standing. She reaches the top and takes a step towards Melinda, freezing when her fingers tightens on the trigger.

“Don’t come any closer,” Melinda says, taking a step back.

“Coulson!” Daisy screams towards the Zephyr. She doubts he’ll hear her. She turns to Melinda. “Please, Melinda. Please don’t do this.”

Melinda swallows. She doesn’t deserve to live. Not after what she’s done to them. Daisy still has the thick white bandage on her arm, covering the deep knife wound.

Tears stream down Daisy’s face as she pleads with Melinda not to, makes promises that they’ll leave her alone, let her do whatever she wants if she just _please_ doesn’t pull the trigger.

Another set of footsteps sounds and they both look down, seeing Coulson come into the hangar. His gaze finds them instantly and his face pales.

“May, no,” he murmurs. Neither of them hear him. He climbs the rungs up to them, hearing Daisy beseeching Melinda not to do this. “Melinda,” he whispers, standing beside Daisy. “No,” he says, finding his voice. “This isn’t how we do things.”

Melinda doesn’t say anything but her finger tightens and she presses the gun harder into her head.

“Melinda,” Daisy sobs, resisting the urge to take a step forward.

Coulson suddenly realises how he can convince Melinda to put the gun down. Daisy will have tried everything, all the promises, all the begging, pleading, crying. It won’t work. She won’t be convinced just by tears and a few pleases.

“Put the gun down, Melinda,” he says, his voice loud and clear. “This isn’t what we do.”

“I don’t wanna wake up to this,” Melinda murmurs.

“Don’t,” he says. He needs to step up his game, convince her.

“ _Please_ , Phil,” she says, looking at him imploringly. Her finger tightens and she pulls the trigger just the littlest bit.

“No!” he yells, taking a step forward, glaring. She flinches, looking away. “No! THAT’S THE COWARD’S WAY OUT, MELINDA!”

“I know,” she whispers.

“You put that gun down _right now_ ,” he orders.

“I can’t. I don’t wanna go on like this.”

“ _Put it down, May_.” He’s not begging. If he begs, she won’t listen. He has to appeal to her conscience, the side of her that refuses to back down, refuses to give up.

Her chin trembles as she fights her tears.

“This is the coward’s way out, May. Are you a coward?” he asks. He keeps his expression as impassive as possible.

She shakes her head slightly.

“Then give me the gun,” he says, quieter. He holds out his hand expectantly. He can see her fighting an internal battle and he waits her out. Slowly, she lowers the gun and places it in his outstretched hand. He pockets it and then sighs in relief, his shoulder’s sagging.

Daisy laughs, almost hysterically. She can’t believe it. She goes to hug Melinda but the way in which she holds herself tells Daisy instantly that she doesn’t want to be touched. She settles for a smile instead. “I’m glad you’re alright. Please don’t ever do that again.”

Coulson waits until Daisy’s gone from the hangar before speaking. “What the hell, May?” He’s angry, furious and he has every right to be.

“I don’t wanna wake up and see them like this,” she admits. She doesn’t want to see Daisy’s arm or the stitches on Bobbi’s head whenever she bends down. She doesn’t want to remember the feeling when she had ICER’d them. She doesn’t want to remember or see any of it. She especially doesn’t want to hear the grating of the knife against bone. She can’t bear it.

Coulson deflates. He wants to pick her up and shake some sense into her. No one blames her for what Pierce made her do. He just wishes she could see that. He stops himself from hugging her. He can tell she doesn’t want it, doesn’t want anyone touching her. He doesn’t want to be thrown over the rail and dropped fifty feet either.

He rests his hand on her shoulder instead and squeezes lightly, trying to communicate without words that he’s here for her. That he’ll be waiting for her. That he’s never going to give up on her.


	13. Scared

She can’t face Daisy after what happened yesterday. She wishes she had never done it. What Coulson said sticks with her. _That’s the coward’s way out_. She knew it when she was about to pull the trigger. She hates that she tried to suicide. She wishes she is strong enough to get past this. She hopes she is but, after all, she tried to go using the coward’s way out. She sits in her bunk and thinks, and if a few tears roll down her face, well, that’s no one else’s business but hers.

She has to go out eventually. She clenches her fists and stands up, walking stiffly towards the door. She hates leaving her bunk. All the settings have been turned down to how she likes it; low light and nobody coming in without her permission. The lights still hurt her eyes, even after almost six weeks. She had hoped she would be fine. Still, though, she can look in the lab for five minutes before her retinas start to burn.

Her hand jumps back when she touches the doorknob. She’d never appreciated the heating in this base, but it obviously hasn’t included her doorknob in its warming of the base. She opens her door and enters the outside world.

She gives Daisy a small smile when she meets her in the hallway and Daisy beams back at her. She walks by awkwardly. She wishes it weren’t. The common room is full, all her team members sprawled on the couches. Mack and Fitz are very competitively competing against each other in a video game. Fitz is coming up with some pretty creative swearing, though. She doesn’t see Coulson, the one person she wants to talk to.

She sits down in the common room, as far away as humanly possible from the others. Bobbi gives her an encouraging smile but doesn’t try to talk to her which she’s grateful for. She shrinks back into the cushions of the chair, letting her hair hide her face. Hunter makes an idle comment about her nocturnal behaviour which she doesn’t reply to.

When Coulson doesn’t show up half an hour later, she heads back to her bunk, deciding she’ll try to find him later. She opens her bunk door and stops, frowning. Coulson’s sitting on her bed, shoulders hunched. He looks up when she comes in, standing up.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Um, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were coming here. Uh, I can leave, if you want.”

She never wants him to leave. She wants to bury herself in him and never let go. She hasn’t been touched with care for so long. She misses him. It’s hard, staying away but it’s for their own good. This way, she can’t hurt them.

“Can I stay?” he asks shyly.

She shrugs. She doesn’t care. She really wants him to. He takes it as a yes.

“Can I hug you?” he asks, just as timidly, stepping forward.

Her head snaps up, looking at him with wide eyes. _Please_.

“Sorry, that was out of line,” he says. “I’ll go now. I’ll be in the common room if you… uh, if you need me.”

She stays standing there, frozen in shock as he walks past her and out of her bunk. The door shuts softly behind her, the lock clicking. He wants to hug her. Why would he want to hug her? She shouldn’t, she really shouldn’t. But she needs the contact, the warmth of him. She wants him.

She flings the door open and runs out of her bunk towards the common room. He’s standing beside Bobbi, chatting quietly. She flings herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her face against his back.

He lets out a surprised yelp but relaxes when he sees her hands, recognising the scars on her trembling knuckles. He turns around and wraps his arms around her, letting her take all the time she needs. She fists her hands in his shirt. All her emotions get the better of her, welling up and spilling out. Her shoulders shake as she sobs. He rubs circles on her back, glad that she’s opening up.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, repeating it over and over again. “I’m sorry, Phil.”

His chin rests on the top of her head. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I don’t blame you.”

He can feel his shirt start to dampen and he knows she won’t want anyone to see this, so he begins to shuffle towards the door. Daisy stops him, gesturing for the others to leave them alone. He nods at her gratefully, mouthing a ‘thank you.’

Melinda doesn’t let him go for the better part of ten minutes. When she does, her tears have dried and her hands are no longer shaking. He hears a muffled apology and squeezes her shoulder.

He looks at her reassuringly. “No blames you. I don’t care if it takes us forever to get past this. We will.”

She snorts, wiping away her tears. “Sap.”

He grins down at her, swaying slowly. “You like it.” He spins her and hums softly.

“Phil,” she complains, but she doesn’t let go of him, staying pressed to him comfortably. She never wants to let him go again.

He murmurs something into her hair that she can’t quite catch. She sighs in content and closes her eyes. He nudges her feet and she takes the hint, stepping onto his shoes. He dances around the room slowly, avoiding the coffee table.

She’s so happy to just be with him that she doesn’t notice Daisy sneaking back in to grab Mack and Fitz’s video game.

Daisy stops and stares, catching Coulson’s gaze. He gives her a warning look to be silent and continues swaying. She digs her phone out of her pocket slowly, silently and takes a picture before Melinda’s eyes snap open, staring at her in displeasure.

“I’m sorry,” she says before Daisy can open her mouth and try some lame excuse she’s found on the internet.

“What for?” Daisy asks and Melinda wonders if she’s being purposely thick.

“For…” She can’t bring herself to say it. She has to. She owes Daisy that. “Your arm. I’m sorry,” she mumbles, meeting Daisy’s eyes cautiously.

Daisy shrugs. “Hey, no big deal. You’d forgive me if I did it to you while being under the influence of Hydra, right?”

“Yeah, but that wouldn’t be…” She trails off, realising she’s been played.

“Exactly,” Daisy smirks triumphantly.

Melinda scowls at her before cursing herself. Daisy doesn’t deserve her anger. Daisy’s done nothing wrong.

 

Daisy watches Melinda subtly whenever they’re in the same room. She doesn’t mean to, but she picks up on how Melinda seems uncomfortable around most of them. She doesn’t even wind up Hunter or argue with him like she used to. Before. Before _this_ happened. Before everything blew up in their faces. She notices the change of Melinda’s posture. She stands with her shoulders pulled inwards, like she’s trying to make herself as small as possible. She walks with her head tilted slightly down. Her eyes never meet theirs. Before, she used to walk with confidence. She wasn’t afraid to stare them down if she thought she was right. She would hold herself with pride and assurance that she belonged.

Daisy hates seeing this Melinda, this unsure, scared side of Melinda. She never wants to see this Melinda but she can’t stop herself from sticking to her side, making sure she’s all right.

She wants her Melinda back. Even in training, when Melinda knows what she’s doing, knows that Daisy will listen to her and is here to learn, her commands are still phrased more like questions.

 

She enters the training room and sees Melinda pounding away on a punching bag. Her breathing is heavy and Daisy can’t see but she’s certain her eyes are wild. The punching bag swings away and Melinda pauses to catch her breath. She stops the punching bag and shakes out her arms, loosening her muscles. She steading the punching bag and starts again.

Daisy leans against the wall, shutting the door softly and waits for Melinda to finish. When Melinda reaches out to steady the bag again, Daisy’s eyes zero in on Melinda’s hands. She’s thought it was just the red bag moving fast but now that she looks closer, she can see its blood. She launches herself forward and tackles Melinda to the ground.

In hindsight, she can see it wasn’t the smartest move. Her head smacks against the mats and she groans, looking up at Melinda. Melinda frowns in confusion, sitting up.

“Daisy?” she asks.

Daisy shifts underneath her, scowling. “My head hurts.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Melinda’s expression morphs into horror and she scrambles backwards. Daisy sits up, a thousand reassurances on her lips when she sees the trail of blood Melinda’s left in her wake. She purses her lips and gives Melinda an unimpressed look. Melinda looks away, hunching in on herself. Daisy crawls forward, kneeling in front of her.

“Hands.” Daisy fully expects Melinda to ignore her so she’s surprised when Melinda drops her wrists in her hands. “Why?” She inspects Melinda’s hands and finds the damage to be not as bad as she’d feared.

Melinda looks up at her miserably and says, “I didn’t have any tape.”

Daisy’s head shoots up in shock, her eyes wide. “That was _you_?”

She shrugs. She owes it to Daisy to let her know.

“Why didn’t you _tell us_?” Daisy asks loudly.

Melinda shrugs again. Daisy hauls her to her feet and leads her to the lab. Melinda doesn’t protest, just drags her feet along dejectedly. Simmons looks up when they come in and spots the blood on Melinda’s hands. She tsks and gets her to sit on the bed in the Med Bay. Simmons cleans away the blood and plasters butterfly stitches over the small cuts.

“While you’re here, can I check the rest of your wounds?” Simmons asks.

Melinda nods and Simmons bends down, unlacing her sneakers. She presses down on Melinda’s ankles, waiting for any reaction. When none comes, she smiles.

“You’re ankles are all good. You probably haven’t done your wrist any good. I think it was almost healed, as well,” Simmons says, feeling around the area. “Never mind. It’s all good, too.” She hesitates. “Can you take your shirt off, please?”

Melinda obeys, sitting slumped on the bed. She doesn’t look at her wounds. She doesn’t want to see the harm Pierce inflicted upon her. Simmons unwraps the bandages on her back and smiles. Her back has mostly healed, just a bit of redness around some of the wounds and only a few scabs. The wounds have only scarred slightly, white lines running across her back.

“So you won’t be needing the bandages on your back anymore,” Simmons says, “But please do take it easy.”

Melinda nods, looking up with bleak eyes. She just wants to be left alone. She’d thought she was getting _better_. She’d thought she didn’t need this kind of careful talk around her like she might shatter if they say the wrong thing. But Daisy had proved she still couldn’t do it.

She slides off the bed and stands there, waiting for one of them to tell her what to do. She sees them glance at each other, unsure.

“Why don’t you and Daisy play a board game?” Simmons suggests when it becomes clear that Melinda isn’t going to make the first move and Daisy is willing to stand there in silence until she does.

Daisy nods gratefully. Melinda shrugs.

“And why don’t you start responding instead of shrugging?” Simmons adds.

Even she looks surprised with herself. Melinda mumbles an okay and follows Daisy out of the room. She hadn’t realised how much her shrugging affected her teammates.

She _likes_ Je– No. Simmons. She doesn’t have the right to call her by her first name anymore. Daisy invites Fitz and Simmons – Simmons shakes her head with a smile but she agrees, following them – and she even goes so far as to ask Coulson. It turns into an impromptu game night.

Bobbi brings Monopoly, Twister, Jenga and Risk. She drags along Mack with her and picks up Elena on her way. They all settle down around the coffee table in the common room. Coulson reaches out and tips the Jenga pieces onto the table. He and Melinda quickly build up the tower like they used to when they were at the Academy, some pieces missing before they start.

“Oh, come on,” Daisy complains when they look to her to start. “That’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair,” Elena says with a pointed look at Melinda who usually says that whenever anyone complains.

Melinda stares at her lap. Daisy breaks the awkward silence by knocking the tower over and rebuilding it the right way. She takes the first block out and stacks it on top of the tower.

They play until Melinda knocks over the tower. She pokes at the block she wants and then Coulson yells at her, making her jump. He doesn’t even yell, just makes a loud noise. She glares at him sulkily.

“Cheater,” she grumbles.

He just laughs.

“Can we play twister?” Bobbi asks, looking at Mack with a smirk.

“Oh, you should know I’m very flexible,” Mack says with a grin. “I can raise my arm above my head.”

“I can do the splits,” Bobbi shoots back.

He waves her off with a laugh. “I’ll read it out.”

“Aw, nooo,” Elena whines. “I wanted to see you trying to play Twister.”

“I’m not falling for your tricks, Yo-yo,” he says. “I’ll read it out.”

“Too late,” Melinda says, holding up the spinner. “You’re playing.”

There’s a shocked silence as they realise that Melinda’s spoken to them and then another shocked silence as they realise she’s _teasing_ Mack.

“What? Oh, hell no,” Mack says, reaching past Coulson to try to grab it away from her.

Melinda stands up and lays out the Twister mat. She hopes she hasn’t overstepped a line, teasing Mack. She’s not expecting for him to continue trying to get the spinner off her. She yelps and sees Simmons straighten, watching her carefully. Oh.

“Ow,” she groans, twisting in Mack’s arms.

He lets her go instantly and she scrambles away.

“I call dibs,” Mack tries and Melinda stares at him in open-mouthed shock.

She hates him. No, she doesn’t. If anything, he should hate her. But they just won’t. It would be so much easier if they would yell at her. She throws the spinner at him in frustration and crosses her arms, refusing to sit back down with them.

She’s not sure how, but she somehow manages to end up tangled up with Coulson and Elena. Elena is leaning over her and Coulson’s left leg is slotted between her knees. Bobbi, despite being able to do the splits, can’t bend in other ways and fell over in the first five minutes. Hunter’s still playing, on the other side of the mat, looking pretty comfortable.  FitzSimmons are crouched beside him, wondering how those three ended up so jumbled. Daisy just stands there, staring at them. Eventually, she takes her position.

Coulson drops next, nearly taking her with him. He stands up and steps off the mat, slipping his jacket back on. Melinda’s arms begin to shake from holding her position for so long. Mack calls, “Red, left hand,” and she could kill him. Wait, no, don’t say that. That just brings back bad memories. She moves her left hand to a red dot and sighs. Now if she could only move her feet.

She ends up almost laying on the mat under Simmons, visibly shaking. Simmons can’t move any higher because Fitz is over her and Elena has her hand wedged between their bodies. Mack calls, “Blue, right foot.” She moves her foot blindly, trusting Daisy to guide her foot to the blue dots. Elena unintentionally brings her arm down on Simmons’ back, making her duck down on Melinda which gives her all their weight to hold. Then Fitz loses his balance and topples on top of them. Melinda groans as they crush her. She never knew they were all so _heavy_.

Three and a half hours later, when they’re all sick of board games, they start to play Truth or Dare. Melinda, against her better judgement, stays.

 

She ends up regretting it.


	14. Truth or Dare

“Truth or dare…” Bobbi scans the room and her gaze falls on Jemma.

“Truth?” Jemma says, almost a question.

She grins. Now. How to embarrass the scientist? Ah… “Have you and Fitz kissed yet?” She might slur her words a little, but she’s understandable.

Hunter gets up and finds another box of beers in the fridge. He brings them back and sits down just in time to hear her response.

“Um…” Her cheeks flame red. “Yes,” she mumbles.

Bobbi crows delightedly. “Finally!” Okay, she might need to stop drinking now.

Jemma just pokes her tongue out childishly, the alcohol lowering her inhibitions. “Truth or dare, Elena?”

They continue playing until Daisy asks Melinda. There’s a period of silence where no one says anything and even Daisy starts to wonder if she should have just taken the board games and not pushed for Truth or Dare.

“Dare,” Melinda says.

“I dare you…” Daisy thinks for a while. “To… To… Tell us where you went when Pierce was controlling you,” she says after a while.

Melinda shuts down immediately. Her face goes blank and her eyes are cold, glaring at Daisy. “No,” she says flatly.

“Aw, c’mon, May,” Daisy wheedles while she’s still alive. “You must have gone somewhere.”

Inside her head. Trapped behind four walls of concrete, four feet thick, more than ten feet tall with a slab of concrete pressing down on her, crushing her. Where no one could hear her, no matter how loud she screamed. And she had. Screamed. So loudly. At Phil and Daisy and Jemma and Leo and Elena and Bobbi and Mack and even Hunter. At all of them. And none of them had heard her. She had beaten her hands on the walls until they were bleeding and swollen.

She can’t tell them that. She can’t relive the horror.

“No,” she repeats.

“Daisy,” Coulson says softly.

“What was up with the bang when they took the ring off?” Hunter asks.

“No,” she says again and she wishes it didn’t sound like she was pleading.

“Hunter, shut up,” Bobbi mutters.

“Yeah, that was weird. Were you transported somehow?” Fitz questions. “Like Thor?”

Simmons gives him a dark look and he immediately falls silent.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“C’mon, Melinda,” Hunter presses. “Spill.”

She glares at him. “ _Shut up_.”

“But where’d you go?” Daisy asks again. “Was it some science-y thing? Like an altar dimension? And then when the ring gets taken off you come back and whoever was here goes there?”

“Are you saying that in some _altar dimension_ I betray you?” Melinda says, deadly quiet. She cannot believe them. Do they _actually_ think she would _ever_ betray them? Well, you technically did, her brain tells her. She tells it to shut up and mentally adds, of her own free will.

“What? No, no, May, _never_ ,” Daisy says, starting to realise this might have been a bad idea.

“Really? Because that’s what it sounds like,” she snaps. A small part of her brain tells her to calm down before she tells them everything but she doesn’t listen.

“May, you would ne–”

She cuts Daisy off, jumping to her feet and stalking away.

“May, come on, luv, you must have gone somewhere,” Hunter says, lounging back against the couch cushions. “Tahiti? Following in our dear leader here? Or on holiday?”

And that’s the breaking point.

She spins around and everyone falls silent.

“ _You shut up_ ,” she hisses. Hunter looks suitably cowed. “I _screamed_ at you. And _none of you_ heard me. I was trapped inside my own head with four walls that kept closing in. I beat my fists against the walls and not _one of you heard!_ I lifted a roof that threatened to crush me if I let up for even a _second_. I breathed poisonous air _for you_ because I _refused to let you die!_ Don’t you _dare_ accuse me of going on _holiday_!” She’s furious. Furious with herself. Furious with them. Furious with everyone, but most importantly, furious with Hunter.

Daisy stands up and approaches her cautiously. Melinda steps back. She doesn’t want to be touched. Not by them.

“I tried. I tried _so hard_ and you go and _make a joke about it_ ,” she spits.

Daisy hugs her and she crumbles. Her arms wrap around Daisy tightly and she buries her head in Daisy’s shoulder.

“I tried,” she whispers.

“I know,” Daisy murmurs. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have joked about it.”

Melinda feels someone wrap themselves around her back and then everyone’s hugging everyone and it’s a group hug. It should feel awkward and weird. It should be quick and over in five seconds. Everyone sitting back down and starting up their conversations again. But that doesn’t happen. It’s nice, being in the middle of her frie– teammates. She’s not there yet. Not yet. But maybe one day, if she can convince them.

She waits a few minutes, thinking they’ll all sit down soon enough. They don’t. She shifts slightly, a subtle attempt to get them to move. They don’t take the hint. Daisy squeezes her tighter. Her breathing quickens as the box she was trapped in comes into view. She tries to control herself but it’s no use.

Her hands start trembling and she brings them up to her face with difficulty. She can still see them. It’s okay. She’s not there, she tries telling herself.

“Stop,” she gets out, pleased when her voice is firm and authoritative rather than weak. “Let me go.”

Daisy pulls back. “Melinda?”

“Let me go,” she repeats, starting to hyperventilate.

Daisy lets her go but the others haven’t heard and the continue hugging her just as tightly.

“Let me go,” she says louder and her breathing is faster, heavier. She pushes away from them, quivering. She needs the space.

She sees Coulson step away immediately, looking concerned. When they let her go, she stumbles away, reaching for something that smells, feels, looks like home. She clings desperately onto Phil who stumbles back a step, surprised. She feels her team crowd around her. She hears Phil’s voice tell them to get back, give them space, muffled by the blood roaring in her ears.

She kneels down, letting go of Phil. She runs her hands over the surface of the floor, making sure it’s not that gravelly, hard ground in her mind. She stretches her hands out blindly, expecting to hit a rough concrete wall, but she simply over-balances and crushes her fingers. She sits cross-legged on the floor, controlling her breathing and keeping her eyes firmly shut. If she can’t see the walls, then she can pretend they don’t exist.

In the back of her mind, she hears someone calling her name. It sounds familiar. It has to be Pierce. She backs away, her back hitting the wall. It’s not as hard as she remembers and it doesn’t go all the way to the floor. She tries to stand but her arms are shaking too badly to be any use. She kicks out at the shape approaching and it stops.

“Melinda,” the shape says.

In her mind, the shape takes a form. She sees Pierce’s face and her feet scrabble for a purchase to push herself away from him.

“Melinda,” Pierce says. He hasn’t moved closer.

“ _Get away from me!_ ” she screams.

Pierce stops immediately. She’s surprised but she tries not to show it. She doesn’t want to give him a weakness to grasp hold of and pull her back down under with him.

“It’s okay,” someone else says.

She turns and can’t see anything. Her brain supplies an image of Ward. She flings her arms up in front of her face, trying to protect herself.

“It’s just us,” the voice says. She’s pretty sure it’s Pierce.

“Just Phil and Daisy and Bobbi and Jemma and Leo and Mack and Elena,” Ward says.

“Don’t _lie to me_ ,” she hisses. If they’re going to tell her they’re her teammates, they’re gonna need to work a hell of a lot harder than this.

“Well then, tell me who I am,” Pierce says.

She can hear a little bit of confusion in his voice which makes no sense. If anything, she should be confused. They haven’t hit her the whole time.

“Alexander Pierce,” she mumbles slowly, “And…” She trails off, her throat closing up. She can’t even say his name. How pathetic is that?”

“And who, Melinda?” Pierce asks.

“Ward,” she mutters, unable to keep the disgust off her tone.

There are a few minutes of silence and she braces herself for a punch. Instead, there’s a hand on her shoulder. It’s gentle and warm.

“Mel, please,” she thinks she hears Phil says. “Open your eyes.”

Her eyes _are_ open, she thinks. But then her sense come back to her and she realises that what she’s leaning against is the couch, the base of it jutting into her lower back uncomfortably. The hand on her shoulder is Daisy’s.

“Melinda,” Phil says desperately. “ _Please_.”

She shuts her eyes and then opens them, very cautiously. She almost sobs in relief when she sees Phil. She latches onto him, her shoulder’s shaking. She can feel their worry but right now, she doesn’t care. She just wants to bury herself in Phil and never let go. They give her enough space so that she doesn’t go off in her mind, terrified that she’s back with _them_.

“Can I hug you?” Daisy asks quietly.

She nods into Phil’s shoulder. She’s glad that Daisy asked. All the same, she curses herself for thinking she was back there. She should know better, the thinks bitterly.

“That wasn’t your fault,” Phil murmurs into her ear.

She wonders fleetingly if he can read her mind.

“I just know you well enough,” he says quietly with a smirk.

She pulls back enough to wipe her eyes. “Shut up.”

Daisy wraps herself around Melinda’s back. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

Melinda frowns. Why is Daisy apologising? None of this is Daisy’s fault. She should have just stayed in her bunk, away from them and then Daisy wouldn’t have to apologise. She waits until Daisy lets go and then pushes herself away from Phil, keeping her head down, staring at the ground.

She’s embarrassed about her outburst and she knows they know. She doesn’t want them to comment on it. She just wants everything to go back to normal. When Daisy was young and innocent, when FitzSimmons still had wonder in their eyes, when Phil wasn’t so stressed out over the whole Hydra business, when Mack was just a mechanic, when Bobbi and Hunter weren’t fighting all the time, arguing over superficial things while hinting towards something bigger. When she could get up at five a.m. and not have anyone running after her, asking if she’s okay.

 _It’s not your fault_. Phil always thinks that. He never holds her responsible for anything. Well… There was that one time at the Academy when she put sugar and green dye in the boys' showers. She lets a smile grace her lips at the memory before frowning again. Even when she was spying on him, invading his privacy, listening in on _every single conversation_. He never blamed her. He was mad, yes, but once he got over that, he accepted it. Even thought it was sweet.

“It’s late,” Coulson says, glancing at the clock on the wall that reads 3:29 a.m. “We should probably call it a night.”

There are murmurs of agreement and one by one, they all traipse out of the common room and towards their bunks. Melinda waits with Coulson, knowing without him having to say anything that he wants to talk to her. She sighs. She should have kept her mouth shut.s She should never have told them about her prison.

When they can’t hear their team’s footsteps anymore, Coulson starts talking.

“When you said about the four walls and roof that was crushing you,” he starts off, a little nervously, “Did you mean, like, you were replaced? Like Radcliffe’s LMD’s?”

Melinda glares at the floor. “No,” she mutters.

“Then how were you in two places at once?” he asks. He’s not sure of himself. Melinda can’t remember the last time she saw him like this.

“Dunno,” she mumbles. “Maybe my subconscious…?” She shrugs. She doesn’t care to find out all the details. All she knows is that she wasn’t strong enough to get out.

He takes two large steps over to her, making her look up in surprise. He takes her face in her hands, staring into her eyes.

For a minute, she thinks he’s going to kiss her. But that would be stupid. He doesn’t love her, especially not after she shot him. Then she reminds herself that Coulson doesn’t blame her for that, even though he really should.

“It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault,” he says, trying to drill it into her brain. He knows she’s thinking self-deprecating thoughts and he wants to stop it. He just doesn’t know how. “If you think your subconscious was trapping you inside a cage, then that’s what happened. I believe you.”

And those three words shatter her.


	15. Thank you

The episodes don’t stop. Not at first. Sometimes just being around people will set one off and she’ll have to remove herself from the room before someone sees. Once she was in an elevator and she could have _sworn_ the walls were closing in. She’d managed to get through it without alerting Hunter or Mack but it had still terrified her.

Then slowly, they come less and less, until they’re uncommon. She still can’t bring herself to argue with Hunter, even when she _knows_ they’d all like for her to shut him down. She’s the only one he really listens to. (She’s pretty sure it’s because he’s scared of her.) When Daisy tries to joke with her, she forces a laugh and pins a smile on her face until she can escape.

She tests herself. Purposely puts herself in small, enclosed spaces to try to control her reactions. The elevator is a common place to find her, eyes shut and steady breathing.

She joins them for dinner one night and she can see everyone consciously not talking about how she’d refused to do anything with them for weeks. Fitz has made haggis and for the ingredients they have, it’s pretty good. All the same, she only takes a little bit when they offer it to her. She can feel Simmons’s watchful eyes on her, making sure she eats everything on her plate. She’s starting to regret coming out of her bunk. She stands up to go put her plate in the sink.

“Sit,” Simmons says firmly.

Melinda considers disobeying her but then remembers that that had never worked out well when she was with Pierce. She sits.

“Jemma,” Daisy mutters under her breath. “Don’t push your luck.”

Simmons rolls her eyes. She scoops another spoonful of Fitz’s haggis onto Melinda’s plate.

“Eat.”

Melinda picks up her fork and pushes the food around on her plate. Steam rises from the middle when she cuts it in half. She takes a bite, keeping her eyes locked on Simmons the whole time. Her eyes dare Simmons to challenge her when she puts her fork down, half the haggis gone.

Unfortunately, Simmons is not so easily intimidated anymore.

“Eat,” she repeats.

Melinda makes a face at the table. She wishes Simmons would just leave her alone. She doesn’t want to eat anymore. When Pierce recaptures her, she’s not going to get any food for ages. Nor sleep. She doesn’t want to have to start from scratch. But if she eats the rest of the haggis and doesn’t come out for any more team dinners then she can get on Simmons’s good side, show she isn’t broken, and still be able to not eat as much as she should. Win, win.

She eats the rest of the haggis.

Everyone else has already finished. She goes to stand up from the table but a glare from Simmons has her seated. She remembers a time when she wasn’t so easily controlled. _Controlled_. She refuses to let _anyone_ have control over her again. She stands up from the table and puts her plate in the sink, washing away the stains.

“May,” Simmons says carefully. “Sit down.”

“No.” She won’t let them control her. She’s not scared of the tiny five foot something bio-chemist. She could kill her in a heartbeat. She freezes, staring at Simmons with a blank expression, but inside, she’s dying. How could she say that? She could _never_ kill Jemma. And she knows she doesn’t have the right to call her that anymore but she needs to. Just this once. Then never again.

Simmons stands up, her chair scraping loudly in the silence. “No one is trying to hurt you, Melinda,” she says in annoyance. Then she sighs and runs her hands through her hair. “Fine. Go.”

Melinda looks at her, a little unsurely. She edges towards the door awkwardly.

“Oh, go on. You don’t even want to be here,” Simmons mutters.

She should say something. Make it better. “Thank you,” she mumbles before bolting.

The tiny smile on Simmons’s face is worth it. She almost stays but then she wonders if they’ll want her to.

She heads towards the training and spends a solid ten minutes glaring at the tape Daisy left in the corner. After cursing in her head she storms over to it and wraps her hands roughly. She could probably go a little more thoroughly but she wants to feel the pain. She shucks off her jacket and kicks off her boots. She thinks about going to change into actual sports clothes instead of jeans but then she decides she can’t be bothered.

She’s so wrapped up in her own head she doesn’t notice the training room door opening and her team filing in silently. Her heavy breathing fills the silence. She doesn’t stop, not even when the bag swings away from her. She uses it’s momentum and punches it back towards the ceiling. She dodges away from it when it comes back to her and then steadies it. She pauses for barely a second before launching herself back into it, pounding away at it for all she’s worth.

The tape on her knuckles begins to fall away and she doesn’t make a move to change. The bag begins swinging again, just as the rest of the tape falls off. She keeps punching. She has a much better excuse now.

“Gonna put more tape on?” Daisy asks sarcastically.

Melinda jumps nearly a foot in the air with a curse. The bag comes back down when she turns around and knocks her on her stomach. She lets out a groan from her facedown position on the mats. She shouldn’t have gotten so caught up. She rolls onto her back and attempts to get her breath back. Daisy crouches down beside her and she lets her. She wipes the sweat off her face with the back of her hand and hisses quietly.

“Oh? Does it hurt?” Daisy asks innocently.

Melinda gives her a dirty look. She’s seen Daisy ignore the tape that was right beside her before, beating her fists away on the sandbag before Melinda stopped her. And anyway, it’s not like her fists are bleeding. They’re barely bruised.

“Don’t give me that look,” Daisy scolds. “You know I’m right.”

Melinda sits up and brushes her hair from her face. She reaches out and goes to pick up the tape but Daisy snatches it away.

“Daisy?” Melinda asks. She was going to wrap her hands.

“Come and play with us,” Daisy complains.

Melinda sighs. She doesn’t want to play. One of them will just end up getting hurt.

“Aw, come on,” Daisy wheedles.

She doubts they were playing anything before they came to annoy her. “No,” she says firmly.

“You know,” Coulson begins, “You want our forgiveness, right? – Which you already have, by the way – This could be a step in the right direction.”

“Next time, I’m going to shoot you with a real gun,” Melinda hisses. Then her brain catches up with what she’s said and she stares at him in horror. She didn’t mean that, she swears. But he’s not frowning. Or glaring or doing anything threatening. He’s just smiling at her, an amused expression on his face.

“You can try,” he grins.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

“Don’t be. It’s nice. I’ve missed your threats.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “Once a day keeps me from doing anything stupid.” He’s got a boyish grin on his face.

What? He likes her threatening him? What kind of idiot–? She stops herself before she gets too far along with that train of thought. He must be teasing her. Or playing his cards so when she threatens him again he can kick her out of SHIELD.

“I’m not joking,” he says.

“Stop doing that,” she grumbles.

“Stop what?” he asks, pretending not to know what she’s talking about.

“Stop reading my mind.” She’s well aware of how stupid it sounds.

Bobbi snorts. “I wasn’t aware Coulson had mind powers.”

“I do, actually,” Coulson smiles blandly. “Give me thirty-four years to get to know you and a few bottles of Haig.”

“I still can’t believe you drank that without me,” Melinda mutters. She’s not bitter.

“Oh, come on. It had your brain,” Coulson waves it off.

Melinda says something under her breath. It’s probably payback from whoever’s running this hell hole. He drank the Haig without her, she tried to kill him. Sounds fair.

“We could play poker,” Daisy tries. She doesn’t actually want to play poker, but if this is what it takes to get Melinda to socialise with them, then she’s all for it.

Melinda scrunches her nose up. “Poker’s not fun if you don’t want to play.”

Daisy stares at her in shock. How? “Fine then. How about tag?” She chooses it because it means running around and she’s restless. They’ve been doing nothing since they got Melinda back and she’s got plenty of cooped up energy.

“Come on, Daisy,” Coulson says. “Give an old man a break.” He knows if Melinda agrees, he’ll be roped into playing as well.

“Nope,” Daisy smirks. “We’re totally playing now.”

So maybe he also knew that if he made any complaints about his back then Daisy would make them play. Maybe. Daisy darts forward and tries to tag Melinda but she jumps backwards. Her eyes narrow and she chases after Melinda, ducking under Coulson’s outstretched arm. At least he can say he tried when she grills him about it later. Hmm. She probably won’t grill him about it later, actually. She hasn’t told him off for a very long while. He kinds of misses it, to be honest.

He’s brought out of his mind by a loud yell. Somehow, Melinda’s tripped over the mats and has gone tumbling into the wall, her feet above her head.

“Are you okay?” Daisy asks as Melinda rights herself, coming over.

“Fine,” Melinda mutters, pressing a hand to her head. “Go play tag. I’ll catch up with you later.”

Jemma rolls her eyes. “Is everything blurry?”

“No,” she mumbles, looking a little to the left of Jemma.

“Can you look at me?” Simmons stands in front of Melinda. Melinda looks above Jemma’s shoulder. “I’m over here.”

“Close enough,” she shrugs, trying to stand. “I’ll walk it off.”

“How hard did she hit the wall?” Coulson asks Hunter quietly.

“Quite hard, actually,” Hunter says. “Surprise she didn’t break it.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Jemma says loudly, drawing their attention back. “Sit down and stay there.”

Once Melinda has tried multiple times to stand up, with various success rates, she gives up. The only time she had gotten her head higher than Jemma’s waist, she fell head-first onto the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Daisy whispers, hands over her mouth. It was just supposed to be a bit of fun. She could have sworn she’d seen a glimpse of a smile on the other woman’s face.

“’S fine,” Melinda says quietly. Payback from Daisy right about now doesn’t sound too bad. She’d quite like for them to get revenge on her. At least then she’d know they aren’t still holding grudges or thinking about ways to get her back whilst they smile and give her their condolences.

“No, she’s really not,” Jemma says, overriding her protests. “No, Melinda, you aren’t _fine_. You can’t even see me clearly.”

“Can too,” she mumbles, closing her eyes which really just defeats the purpose of her arguing.

Coulson snorts. He walks over and crouches down beside her. “Mel? Does your head hurt?”

She scrunches up her nose but gives a small nod.

“Scale of one to ten?” he asks.

“Four.” She knows if she says anything higher than five, she’ll be placed on bed rest immediately. She also knows Phil knows she’s lying.

“Liar,” he says. “Six, right?”

She shrugs. She doesn’t really care. All she wants is to close her eyes and go to sleep forever.

“All right, you. Let’s get you to bed,” he says with a smile. “Up you get.” He helps her to her feet, keeping one arm wrapped firmly around her waist. When she stumbles again, he says softly, “I’m going to pick you up now, okay?” She nods wearily and he bends down and scoops her up bridal style.

Once in her bunk, he dims the lights and places her in her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin.

“Get some rest, Mel,” he whispers.

“Phil,” she mumbles. “Stay, please.”

He’s not sure if he heard her right. “You want me to stay?” he asks, just to clarify.

She nods, already falling asleep.

“Okay, then.” He kicks off his shoes and takes off his jacket, loosening his tie. He crawls into the bed next to her. She instantly snuggles up to him, closing any gaps between them. He smiles. She’s cute when she’s sleepy It’s just a shame it’s because she hit her head.

Melinda inhales Phil’s smell, trying to remember it for when she has to push him away. She doesn’t want to. She wants to keep him close to her for as long as possible but he doesn’t deserve that. He deserves someone who won’t betray him, try to kill him. First it was for Fury, then it was her LMD and now it’s Pierce. She’s had enough. She’s not doing it again. If he thinks she doesn’t like him, then it’ll be much easier to let him go.

She just wishes she is strong enough to do it without having to map him.


	16. Getting it all out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update. I haven't been able to figure out what to write next. :(

They start noticing the change in her behaviour about a week after her head injury. She’d woken up the next day with Coulson beside her, an arm draped over her waist. She’d carefully extracted herself from him and left him there.

She begins going out of her way to avoid them. If any of them comes into a room while she’s there, she drops her head, slumps her shoulders and when she can, beat a hasty exit.

Coulson knocks on the door to her bunk softly, so as not to disturb her if she’s sleeping. It’s sweet of him to think she’s sleeping. She doesn’t answer, just transitions into the next step of her tai chi.

“Melinda?” his voice calls from the other side of the door.

She glares at it as she raises her arms slowly.

“I know you’re in there,” he says calmly. “Let me in.” There’s a pause. “Please?” he asks quietly.

She still doesn’t answer, just bends her knees and lowers her arms, turning to the left.

“I’m coming in, okay?” he says.

She hears the lock in her door click open. The door doesn’t open instantly. She supposes he’s waiting to see if she’ll give up the charade and let him in. She rolls her eyes. He’s going to be waiting a long time.

The door opens slowly, creaking on its hinges. She stifles her wince, making a mental note to get that oiled. She turns her back on him, shifting her weight onto her right leg. She can hear him shuffling unsurely.

“Are you … okay?” he asks.

She almost gives him a response. _Is she okay_? What kind of stupid question is that? No, she’s not _okay_! She tried to _kill_ them!

“Please answer me, Melinda,” he pleads, taking a step closer.

Her shoulders tense up, not by her own command and she tries to relax her body but she can feel him standing right behind her. She purposely moves towards him under the pretence of doing tai chi and smacks him in the face before continuing in her circle. A smile threatens to break free but she gets rid of it before he can see.

“Hey now,” he complains. “That’s just rude.”

She stops tai chi, dropping her arms to her sides. Her mouth remains firmly closed. She’s not going to humour him, play his stupid game and run into his arms like she so desperately wants to.

“Melinda? Do you want me to go?” he asks.

He’s using that voice of his, the one where he sounds like a little kid. He drops his shoulders, gives her puppy dog eyes and pouts. Usually, she thinks it’s hilarious and tells him to get out before she makes him. This time, she wants to wipe that expression off his face because it’s making her feel guilty. It’s not even her fault. Okay. Maybe it is her fault. But she never asked him to come after her!

She never has to ask him to do anything.

Her non-answer tells him. He lets out a small sigh.

“If you need me, I’ll be in my office,” he tells her, heading towards the door. He pauses, his hand on the doorknob, hoping that she’ll change her mind. She doesn’t.

When he’s gone, she lets out a breath and relaxes her body. She hates that she’s causing him this pain. She should have said something, should have let him stay. But he’d know. He’d know that she’d be uncomfortable and he’d leave anyway, regardless of whether or not he wanted to stay.

She crawls back into her bed, curling up beneath the covers.

When she emerges from her room, she gets bombarded with questions from Simmons who’s really only trying to help but no, she doesn’t have a headache and no, she’s not feeling tired or anything unusual and no, she does _not_ want to go to the Med Bay for Simmons to poke and prod her.

She gets dragged off anyway, Coulson trailing behind them uncertainly, just wanting to make sure she’s alright. She sits on the bed and waits for Simmons to get her equipment out. She squints as a bright light is shone into her eyes cursing it in her head.

“I need you to open your eyes and follow the light, please,” Simmons says and Melinda’s sure she detected a little bit of pleading in her voice as well.

She opens her eyes and follows the light like a good little patient.

“Thank you,” Simmons says, putting the light away and standing back. “Now, are you sure you don’t have a headache?”

“Yes,” she says and just the tiniest bit of irritation creeps into her voice. She pushes it away quickly, not wanting to hurt Simmons. It’s not Simmons’s fault. She’s only trying to help.

Simmons smiles at her, a little too brightly to be real. “Well, in that case, you’re all good to go. Just take it easy and remember, if you–”

“If anything hurts, I’ll come to you straight away; if I get even the slightest headache or something uncomfortable I will tell you and I will go to bed at reasonable times,” Melinda says, repeating what the biochemist has told her in the past.

Simmons’s smile is more real this time. “Thank you for remembering.”

Melinda stands up uncertainly and stakes a few steps towards the door, glancing back at Simmons, not sure if she’s supposed to leave now. Simmons opens her mouth and then closes it, deciding against saying whatever it is she’s thinking about.

“Melinda,” Coulson starts, also unsure.

She nearly laughs at them. She used to be so confident in herself, knowing exactly what she wanted. She used to walk with her head held high, expecting to be listened to by the junior agents (God knows Daisy and Phil don’t). Now look at her, nervous, shoulders slumped, barely talking to anyone.

“If you don’t mind,” Simmons hedges, “Would you mind… Of course, you don’t have to.” She laughs nervously. “It’s just…” She coughs. “If you could explain to us where exactly you went when … um, when you were…”

“Taken,” Melinda supplies, voice emotionless. She starts to walk away despite Simmons trying to convince her.

“It’s just that this could really help you! I mean, not that you’re not getting better, of course,” she says hurriedly as Melinda reaches the door. “You know, get it all out and whatnot.”

Melinda pauses. Simmons takes it as a good sign and continues blabbering, desperately trying not to offend her in any way.

“Please?” Simmons asks.

She really doesn’t want to. She wants to ignore it and forget it all happened. Shut it out. She looks back at Simmons and regrets it immediately. She’s looking at her with that hopeful expression of hers.

“Fine,” she mumbles, cursing herself internally. She faces Simmons and Coulson, crossing her arms and staring at the ground.

“Only if you want to,” Simmons says quickly. Then she bustles Melinda towards into the common room, not wasting the opportunity. “Do you want everyone there?”

Melinda shrugs. Simmons stops and takes her hands, squeezing them.

“If you really don’t want to do this, you don’t have to,” she says. “No one is going to force you to do anything you don’t want to.”

Melinda nods. “Get it all out, right?”

Simmons beams. “Thank you.” She ducks into the lab and badgers Fitz until he drops the piece of tech he’s fiddling with and follows her out.

“Hey, May,” he greets.

“Hi,” she murmurs, not quite meeting his eyes.

“What’s going on?” he asks, looking at her, trying to coax her to come out of her shell.

“Get it all out,” she mutters. They stand in silence for a bit. She thinks it over. Answering all their questions in front of everybody. She can’t do that. She’s not ready for it. Maybe one day in another life she’ll be able to joke about it but not today. Not in this lifetime. She looks at Jemma. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“That’s fine,” Jemma says. “Whenever you’re ready.” She smiles understandingly. She’s gotten better after Fitz. She needs to wait until they’re ready, do it at their speed, not hers.

“You want some help doing … uh, whatever it is you’re doing?” Fitz asks. He twists his hands awkwardly.

“I’m good,” she says, offering up a small smile.

He gives her a big smile, glad that he could at least receive her smile, something that has become a rarity since she was captured. She’d started opening up and then Pierce had come along and ruined everything.

She follows Coulson instead. He always knows what she wants, even when she doesn’t. He raises his eyebrows at her but she’s not looking at him. He meanders through the hallways, waiting for her until she’s walking beside him.

“Any particular reason you’re following me?” he asks.

She shrugs, almost angrily. It’s become her default setting.

“Do you want to talk?” he asks again, trying to get a feel for where she’s at. He doesn’t want to push her too hard but it usually takes a little bit of pushing to get her to open up. If she doesn’t want to though, he’ll have just set everything back. “Do you want to tell me what happened when you were in there?”

She shrugs but it’s less aggressive than before, more uncaring. He takes it as a yes. He places a hand on her elbow and leads her to his office. Even the little touch he’s doing now feels amazing. A tiny zing races up and down her arm. He sits down behind his desk and Melinda stands in front of him.

“Sit down if you want,” he says, motioning to the chairs in front of her. He wishes he’d taken her somewhere a little less formal, like his bunk. He watches her as she sits down, holding herself stiffly.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” he queries.

“Here’s fine,” she says quietly.

Her shoulders are hunched and she’s not looking at him. He wants to hug her until she’s okay but he knows she won’t appreciate that. So instead, he leans back in his chair and tries not to look threatening or intimidating.

She watches as he makes himself comfortable. She wishes he would just hug her. Hug her until she stopped crying. But he doesn’t because he thinks she doesn’t want him to touch her.

“Where’d you go?” he begins, hoping it’s an easy question that she can answer.

She glances up at him. “Dunno.” Inside her head, but that sounds stupid.

“What did it feel like?” he asks instead. “What could you see?”

She’s silent for a long time. Long enough for him to think she's calling quits. “I could see you.” She could see all of them, the looks of pure horror forming on their faces when she betrayed them. They hadn’t deserved that. First Ward, and then her.

“Just me or everyone else as well?” he asks, just making sure.

“All of you guys,” she answers, shifting in her seat. She doesn’t look at him. If she does, he’ll be able to see all the guilt she’s holding and she doesn’t want him to touch her, comfort her. But she does. She desperately craves his touch but she won’t allow herself it.

“Could you touch anything?” he leans forward. If this weren’t his best friend, he’d be trying to get every little detail out of her.

“The walls,” she says quietly. “They were bars first.”

“What do you mean they were bars first?” he questions.

Melinda looks up at him with watery eyes. She swallows before speaking. “I could move. I could see. I could push against the bars and they might move a few millimetres.”

“Just a few millimetres?” he asks in disbelief.

“Every millimetre was a win,” she snaps. “You have _no idea_.”

He backtracks immediately. “I’m sorry. You’re right, I don’t know. I’m sorry, it just sounded a little pointless.”

“The walls _were closing in_ ,” she hisses, standing up suddenly, her chair scraping across the floor loudly.

“Oh.” He feels like an idiot. “I’m sorry. Again. Sorry.”

She sits down, scowling at him but she doesn’t leave so he figures he can keep asking questions. He never said he was completely sane.

“What happened after the bars?” He wants to move around to sit beside her but he’s not sure she’s like that.

“They thickened and became concrete,” Melinda murmurs. She sniffs wetly, trying not to cry. She’s not some princess that needs to be coddled. She can fight her own battles. “Started moving faster.” She rushes her words, only a few coherent but Coulson catches the meaning.

“You said the walls were crushing you?” he clarifies.

She nods in confirmation. “Got a roof. Pushed the walls further into the ground. The ground started getting harder, more gravel-like instead of mushy.”

“And how thick were the walls?” he asks.

She shrugs again. “More than a metre.”

“How long were you able to stand up for?”

She can’t help but remember the dread she’d felt when her feet had slipped out from under her and she’d fallen to the ground, terrified that the roof was going to kill her. But it hadn’t, it had only badly bruised her knees as she’d flung her legs up to protect herself.

She breathes in and out in time to the ticking of the clock on the wall, trying to calm herself down. It doesn’t work. Panic bubbles up inside her and spills out.

“Phil,” she cries out, standing up and trying to reach him.

He’s beside her in an instant, wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her up. She grabs his shirt and pulls him closer to him, inhaling his scent. She can’t see properly, everything’s all blurry. She wants to hold him forever, so she does. Or as long as she can before he’s pulling back, brushing her hair from her face.

“Melinda?” he asks softly, setting her down on her chair. He kneels down in front of her, grasping her hands. He can feel her fluttering pulse. “Melinda, whats wrong?”

“I couldn’t move,” she gets out, gasping for breath. “Nat, if she’d waited any longer it would have … woulda crushed me.” She pauses, wiping an unshed tear from her eyes. “Kept closing in,” she whispers.

“Oh, Mel,” he says quietly, wrapping her in his arms again.

Her hands fist in his shirt, gripping the fabric so tight he’s almost worried it might tear but if it helps Melinda, he’s willing to let her rip up all of his shirts.

“You want some tea?” he enquires, knowing it helps calm her down. Also, he needs to do something or he might just kiss her.

She nods but doesn’t move a muscle. He slowly lets her go, making sure she’s steady on her feet.

“C’mon, then,” he says, leading her over to the door. She walks in front of him and he watches her, making sure she isn’t going to fall down the stairs.

Daisy and Jemma are sitting on the couch watching zombie movies and faulting the inaccuracy and special effects. Fitz is sitting at the table glaring at them. Bobbi and Mack are making brownies in the kitchen.

Coulson slips past them, reaching for the jug. He boils it and then pours Melinda a cup of tea who is watching him intently, sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter.

She watches him as he makes her a cup of tea. He makes it just how she likes it, the bag still in it when he passes it to her. Their hands brush and she looks up at him. That was deliberate if the glint in his eyes is anything to go by.

“Phil,” she says quietly. She’s not sure if she wants him to stop or take this somewhere private and see what happens.

He’s got that tiny smirk of his, the one he does when he’s seeing if he can get something without the other person noticing. Only she’s already noticed and she’s not sure what she wants. She takes a sip from her cup and can feel his eyes watching her. If he could just do something about it, that would be great, she thinks. Maybe they _should_ go somewhere private. No, she decides. He doesn’t deserve a killer like her. He’s got Audrey. He could tell her he’s alive and they could start something. She might hate it, but if he’s happy, then she’s happy.

She’s too engrossed with her thoughts to notice that Phil has come around the counter and is standing next to her. She jumps out of her mind with a start when he lays a hand on her shoulder, just resting it there. Her breathing stills, every inch of her focused on that one spot where they connect. Then he’s gone, squeezing her shoulder slightly before moving away.

She wishes she had said no to a cup of tea. Then they could still be in his office. They could be alone and she might have even worked up the courage to kiss him by now.

But he doesn't deserve someone like her. He's too good, too pure. Even when Ward had first betrayed them, he still believed there was a chance that he might be a good man.

There's no chance for her anymore. Not after what she did.


	17. Call me Jemma

Phil makes himself a coffee and then comes to sit beside her. Her whole body is tense, waiting, watching. She’s not sure what he’s going to do and she doesn’t like it. So she pretends to ignore him, stares pointedly at the wooden bench top and drinks her tea. It scalds her throat but she doesn’t care.

“You sure that’s cool enough to be drinking?” Phil asks her, knowing full well that it’s not. He only made it a minute ago.

She nods without looking at him. He frowns, wondering if he’s done something wrong. Nope, he’s pretty sure he hasn’t. He’s asked her about when she was controlled, he’s made her tea and he’s smirked at her. That’s pretty much it. He smirks again when she looks over at him and she looks away, twisting in her seat to watch the zombie movie on the television. He’s not quite sure which movie it is but he’s pretty sure it’s _Dawn of the Dead_ , a movie which had scared most of the crap out of him when he was younger, despite being made in 1978. He’d watched it with Melinda after their final exams at the Academy.

“Liar,” he mutters, leaning in closer to whisper it beside her ear. He catches her shiver. So this is what’s making her edgy. Him. The thought of that makes him surprised. He hadn’t thought anything could make Melinda nervous, except for a few obvious things. Things beginning with B, for example.

She sets her mug down, giving him a pointed look before turning her gaze back to the benchtop. She’s sitting in what looks like defeat to him. Her shoulders are slumped – as usual – and she’s letting her hair cover her face so he can’t see her expression. He’s not sure whether she’s doing that deliberately or not, but he’s pretty sure if he could see her face she’d be miserable, lips turned down and eyelids drooping, not bothering to keep them open fully.

“Piss off,” she mutters.

He admits he’s a little surprised to hear that from her. He backs off a little, still sitting just close enough to provoke a reaction. He watches as she tries to relax her body, the muscles in her arms twitching. He leans back in his chair and her body releases its tension. He moves forward again, testing, and she clenches her fist to stop her from punching him.

She gives him a glare and is about to look away but his eyes draw her back in. She can’t look away. The noise around them fades away as she focuses on the deep blue of his eyes. She doesn’t realise they’ve stood up until she takes a step forward and his arms come around her waist, wrapped around her loosely so she can still escape if she wants to.

She’s barely aware of Fitz’s jaw-dropping in shock, taking a break from glaring at Jemma and Daisy. He walks over to the TV in a daze and fumbles for the pause button, still staring at them in shock. They both get ready to yell at him but he points at May and Coulson. Daisy drops the popcorn bowl, kernels finding their way into tiny cracks that will be hell to clean up. Bobbi hums to the tune of _Some Nights_ before trailing off when she spins around, looking for the flour.

“Oh my god,” she murmurs.

None of that breaks Melinda’s trance. She’s swept up by Phil. His tongue darts out and flicks over his lips nervously. She stares, captivated. Why is he doing this? She crushes the dark thoughts that threaten to overwhelm her and reduce her to a husk of herself.

Phil lowers his head and pauses, noses brushing. She wonders why he’s stopped and then realises he’s waiting for her. She leans up and presses her lips to his. He tastes like coffee and strawberries. She wonders if he has a punnet in his office. Then he bites down on her lip and her thoughts go flying out the window. His arms leave her waist and his hands cradle her jaw. Nothing else matters except this. She knows it’s a cliché but she can hear fireworks go off in her brain.

Elena and Hunter walk into the common room, Elena carrying a stack of movies. They both freeze when they see the two senior agents making out like teenagers. Elena drops the movies and they fall to the floor with a loud crash.

The noise brings Melinda and Phil to their senses, breaking them apart. Hunter wolf-whistles, much to everyone’s disgust.

Melinda’s head clears, and with it, her mind. She realises what she’s done and backs away, mouth open in horror. She had thought she could control herself. Obviously not. She turns on her heels and hightails it out of there. She hears Phil call out her name but she doesn’t stop, doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t want to hear him tell her he’s sorry, that it was a mistake.

The agents part for her when she comes running down the hall. Piper and her team are practising in the training room but they take one look at her and beat a hasty retreat, giving her concerned glances.

She hooks up a sandbag and wraps her fists minimally. It’ll keep Simmons slightly happy as well as give her an excuse to hit it harder. What the hell was she thinking? Why’d she have to go and kiss him? She shakes her arms quickly, a small warm-up before punching the bag. It doesn’t move much, just swings gently. She beats her fists against it, strikes it with her knees and feet and spins and slams her elbows into it harshly. The bag swings more violently now and she stills it with steady hands, her breathing barely a notch above even.

Her knees and elbows sting, skin scraping of as she pounds them into the bag. The sandbag begins to tear, fabric coming off with her knee. She gives it a good punch in the same spot as before and her hand goes right through. She stays like that for a minute, sand seeping out onto the floor before pulling her hand from the hole, wincing when grains stick to her cuts. Serves her right, she tells herself bitterly. She unhooks the bag and drags it over to the corner before pulling another out of the storage cupboard. She clips it on and is about to start again when she hears Simmons’s voice.

“Wrap your hands, please.”

Her shoulders slump but she dutifully goes and finds her tape and wraps it around her knuckles a couple of times. She hears Simmons sigh but she doesn’t care. It’s her life. She can deal with the consequences later.

“Melinda,” Simmons says sternly. “Hands. Now.”

Melinda turns around to brush her off, a scowl planted firmly on her face, only to find no one there. She frowns. She’s _sure_ she heard Simmons. She scans the room one last time before deciding it must have been the voice in the back of her head. She faces the bag again and closes her eyes, breathing out deeply before launching into action. Her leg hits the bag with a loud _smack_. The noise of her elbows against the bag makes satisfying thumps, skin against the rough fabric.

She steps back for a minute when the bag swings too violently. She kicks off her shoes and socks, toes gripping the stiff red mat. She catches the bag when it comes back to smack her in the face, keeping one hand on it to keep it steady, before striking it again.

She wants to touch him, run her hands up and down his body, map him so she can remember him when he’s gone. She knows he’s going to die first. He’s so much more damaged than her, one arm, Tahiti, his mind so compartmentalised that work and home aren’t even a thing anymore, just work. He’s held together by screws. She’s seen the x-rays.

But for all his hardness, he still cracks dad jokes, makes stupid puns and hugs all his kids when they’re upset. She rarely lets him do it to her. She can’t handle it. When she does, she usually ends up crying in his arms.

She doesn’t want to know what his lips feel like. She doesn’t want to know what it feels like having his hands on her waist. She doesn’t want to know. But she does and she hates that she does because he doesn’t deserve a monster like her.

She attacks the bag until her fists bleed through the tape and her elbows leave bloody marks on the bag. She shoves it with her shoulder, and then leaps through the air, her foot colliding with the bag. The bag moves, the hook it’s hanging on creaking. She lands on her feet but doesn’t stop, moving forward, her fists swinging at the bag.

The bag goes flying backwards and she jumps out of the way, tucking forward into a roll and standing up. She grabs the bag, stumbling a little when it pulls her along with it.

Her heavy breathing fills the silence of the room. She wipes sweat from her face and pulls the tape off her knuckles harshly, uncaring for the cuts that open again. Her hands sting when she wipes them roughly on her leggings. She’s about to start up again when the door bangs open. She spins around, startled and has a few seconds to try to come up with excuses before Hunter barrels into her, making them both tumble onto the mats. He pins her before she has a chance to roll away, grinding her hands into the mats, uncaring of the cuts that litter her hands. She hisses in pain, eyes watering.

“Sorry, luv,” Hunter grimaces. “I drew the short straw.”

She glares up at her team as they file in. She looks away from Simmons, who is trying very hard to maintain her composure. She doesn’t want their pity. Hunter scrambles up off her once the door is shut and locked.

She inspects her knuckles, picking away dried blood. Simmons crouches down in front of her and takes her foot, inspecting it. It knocks Melinda off balance and she collapses to the ground with a thud and an ‘oof.’ She leans up on her elbows, trying her very best not to snatch her foot away from Simmons and run. She won’t get far anyway, and it’ll be easier to cooperate.

Simmons runs her finger across the scrapes on Melinda’s foot and her leg jerks, muscles tensing as she holds herself in place. Simmons pulls Melinda into a sitting position and, minding the scratches on her hands.

“These are going to need stitches, you know,” Simmons says, standing up.

Melinda glances up at her. “They’ll be fine.” She regrets it as soon as the words leave her mouth.

Simmons’s eyes narrow and her lips tighten. She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at her.

“Um… I didn’t mean that?” Melinda tries, shuffling backwards a little.

“Yes, you did,” Simmons says coldly.

Melinda glowers at Coulson when he tries and fails to maintain his composure. He’s not the only one having trouble hiding his smile. Daisy can go to hell. She’s enjoying this far too much.

“Med Bay,” Simmons says.

“Can’t,” Melinda says with a wince, cursing her troublesome mouth.

“Oh?” Simmons says dangerously. “And why is that?”

“Door’s locked.” She avoids meeting Simmons’ gaze. She should’ve kept her mouth shut.

“That can be fixed.” Simmons pulls Melinda to her feet and unlocks the door.

Melinda purposely bumps into Coulson on her way out, enough so that he stumbles back a few steps.

“Melinda,” Jemma chides, holding the door open for her. “Come, this way.”

In the Med Bay, Melinda lets Simmons stick butterfly stitches over her wounds after cleaning the cuts with alcohol.

“From now on, since you clearly can’t be trusted on your own, someone will be accompanying you wherever you go,” Simmons instructs. “I’ll draw up a roster.”

Melinda scowls. “That’s just a nice way to say babysitting. And I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.”

“Would you rather I say babysitting?” Simmons asks politely. “And you really aren’t, judging by the abrasions on your hands, feet, elbows and knees. Some of those are going to scar.”

Melinda shrugs. “Fine by me, Simmons.”

“Your don’t-care attitude only works for you, Melinda,” Simmons says. “And my name is _Jemma_. We’ve known each other long enough, don’t you think?”

 _But I don’t deserve to call you that anymore_ , Melinda wants to say. _I hurt you. I betrayed you_. What she says though, is, “Okay, Simmons.”

“What I meant was, call me Jemma,” Simmons says with a forced smile. “Please.”

“Jemma,” Melinda mumbles, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Thank you. So, would you like Phil to stick with you first?” Jemma asks, a smirk gracing her lips.

Melinda doesn’t bother answer, just turns on her heel and walks out of the Med Bay, bare feet slapping quietly against the cold, hard floor.

“I’m taking that as a yes!” Jemma yells after her.

“Don’t you dare!” Melinda shouts, turning around to glare at her, only to turn back around and bump into Coulson.

Jemma appears next to her, smiling widely at Coulson. “Since Melinda here can’t be trusted by herself, I’ve decided that each one of us is going to stick to her like glue, rotating every three hours.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea,” Coulson agrees, giving Melinda a dark look. He wraps an arm around her shoulders. “I can take the first shift if you want.”

Jemma beams. “Thank you very much. That would be wonderful.”

Melinda ignores Simmons, scowling at the wall beside her head. Coulson would take all the shifts if he had to. This is _not_ going to work out in her favour.

And he doesn’t leave her, either. Even when she enters the women’s bathroom. He just gives her a look that tells her he knows what she’s doing but he doesn’t stop her; he simply rests his head against the brick wall, the rest of his body following suit.

She closes her eyes in the bathroom, trying to make herself go outside. If she behaves, doesn’t attempt to run away or injure herself again, then they’ll stop. Hopefully. So she grits her teeth and opens the door. He’s still standing there, smug as ever.

“How about we play chess?” he suggests.

She could kill him. Except she won’t, she tells herself firmly. Not after last time. When she sleeps, nightmares of him lying dead in front of her, his blood on her hands fills the empty void.

“I’m taking that glare as a yes,” he decides and leads her to the common room, where he pulls out a chess set from one of the games cupboards in the far left corner. “I’ll be white,” he says, knowing she prefers to be black.

He’s far too good to her. He really shouldn’t be doing this. Simmons could have – no, _Jemma_ , remember – could have locked her up somewhere where none of them would have to look after her. Only they _would_ because she’d freak out and think she was back with Pierce and that would be another thing she’d have to hide from them. She already can’t tell them she still has nightmares. They’ll just get overbearing and one of them will stay with her each night and just _urgh_.

She realises he’s watching her. She frowns in confusion until she sees he’s moved his middle pawn out two spaces. She jumps her horse over in front of her knight and ignores Phil’s snicker.

Phil beats her, of course he does. She’s never beaten him at chess, even when they were younger and used to go out clubbing and then come home drunk, looking for something to kill time. He’s always been white, she’s always been black. It’s just the way things are. She’s glad that after all these years, some things still haven’t changed. It’s a refreshing change of pace from this whole new crazy world, filled with aliens and monsters and gods.

They play board games all afternoon until she’s ready to bash someone’s head in with the set of adult cards from Trivial Pursuit.

“How about I make you some dinner, huh?” Phil asks, well aware that she’s in no mood to move, too busy sulking.

He gets up anyway, ignoring her non-answer. He pulls out a sheet of pasta and frozen mince from the freezer. There’s a can of tomatoes in the pantry that’s a couple of days past their best before date but they’ll be fine.

“You like lasagna?” he asks, knowing full well that she does. Especially his. She glares at him. “Okay, then. Lasagna it is.”

He chats at her as he goes, bouncing questions and ideas off her for some new SHIELD tech. He ends up agreeing that a taser is a waste of time and useless. She decides not to mention Darcy Lewis once tased Thor. He’ll just be desperate to make a billion of them. She gets him to agree that a light-up disco ball that fires bullets is not the most covert weapon and will simply alert the enemy to their position. She doesn’t mention that it will probably stun them first and they’ll inspect it for a closer look, only to get shot down.

She brings her legs up beside her on the couch, curling up at one end. He glances over at the movement, instantly spotting the goosebumps on her arms.

“Cold?” he asks. She glares at him. “I can get you that blanket you like if you want,” he offers.

She’d rather have her jacket, but it’s still inside the training room and Simmons will have a coronary if she even goes _near_ it. She shakes her head, negative, but he goes and gets it anyway. She doesn’t move, muscles tensing as he drapes it over her, tucking it under her feet.

By the timer goes off on the oven half an hour later, it’s just past eight and most of the agents have gone home for the day or retired to their bunks. He pauses their card game, getting up to take it out. It’s a little overcooked, but he hasn’t made anything foodwise for several weeks now and he’s a little rusty.

“Dinner is served,” he announces as Daisy enters, following her nose. Slowly, the rest of the team trickles in, baited by the smell of warm food. Bobbi gets the plates out, kicking Hunter until he gets the knives and forks, laying them out on the table.

“Thanks, Director,” Daisy grins through a mouthful.

“Close your mouth while you eat, Daisy, and no talking with your mouth full,” he instructs, feeling very much like a parent when he sees Melinda pushing her lasagna around her plate. “You aren’t leaving the table until you finish, Melinda,” he warns.

He’s well aware of the danger of provoking the already sulking grizzly bear – she may claim she’s not sulking but she denies everything, and honestly, when you’ve known someone as long as he’s known her, you know when they’re sulking. She’s just stubborn. Far too stubborn, he decides when she still doesn’t eat.

He nudges her. She brings a forkful to her mouth and chews it slowly. By the time she finishes, everyone else has left the table. Jemma is teaching Daisy how to play chess, with Bobbi’s unhelpful tips.

“Do you want to finish our card game?” Phil asks, bringing their plates to the sink and rinsing them.

She shrugs. What she really wants to do is hide away and vent all her frustration on a punching bag. If only she’d been more careful, looped the video feeds or done something to make them think she was stable and sane.

“Sure,” she says without much enthusiasm.

“Twenty bucks says I win,” he says, trying to bait her into playing properly.

“No deal.” She picks up her pile of cards, about thirty in all from all the stupid pick-up cards Phil kept giving her. He’s only got five left.

He draws the game out, just so she has a chance of winning. She lets him but she doesn’t win. He beats her while she still has eighteen cards to get rid of.

“No more cards?” he asks with a laugh. He gets an unimpressed look as a result.

He makes her play board games with him until she’s struggling to keep her eyes open. He checks the time. Just past eleven. FitzSimmons, Daisy, Elena and Mack have gone to bed already. Bobbi and Hunter are sparring. Well. Bobbi’s practising her moves and Hunter is practising being a rag doll.

He chances another look and smiles softly when he sees her eyes are shut. Her breathing is slow and even. The blanket is on the other end of the couch so he drapes it over her and tenderly pressing his lips to her forehead. He turns the lights off on his way out, shutting the door halfway.

 

Melinda wakes up with a scream.

 


	18. Back again

_They lay dead before her, blood pooling around them. Her own hands are covered in blood, chunks of their flesh wedged under her fingernails._

_Their blood._

_She can’t remember what happened. Her mind is fuzzy and dark._

_She looks at her hands again before turning around and vomiting. Where there should be a ring, there’s bare skin, tarnished with blood._

_She did this._

_She killed them._

_“May,” Phil groans, gasping for breath, heart beating furiously, pumping blood out of his body as it tries to keep him alive._

_“Phil!” She rushes over to him, cradling his head in her hands._

_He flinches away from her._

_“How could… Cou…” He can’t get any more else but he doesn’t need t. The accusing look in his eyes tells her what he’s trying to say._

How could you? _She’s not even sure herself. Pierce may have ordered her to, but she can see herself, grinning, teeth stained red with blood as she plunged her hand into Phil’s chest, torn open by the bullets from her gun._

How could you do this?

_She’s a monster. She knows this. Nothing new. Everyone knows it._

_Phil’s eyes flutter shut, despite him trying to keep them open. The accusing look isn’t gone. If anything, it’s stronger. She looks away. His hand shifts helplessly. He’s too weak to hurt her. He can’t even move._

_“Your…” He’s dead before he can finish the sentence, eyes still locked lifelessly on her._

Your fault _._

_She screams._

Melinda bolts upright, mouth opened wide, a feral scream torn from her throat. She clutches the blanket, curling into a ball, sobbing. She wipes her eyes as she hears footsteps thudding quickly towards her. She tries to control her breathing but it doesn’t work.

There’s a whoosh and suddenly a cup of tea is on the coffee table in front of her. Elena. Dammit. She’s woken them up. Elena runs in first with a sheepish smile, Phil right behind her. Daisy stumbles in seconds later, trying to hide a sleepy yawn.

“You okay?” Phil asks, kneeling in front of her.

She tries to answer but all that comes out is a guttural cry. She buries her head in her arms in a desperate attempt to block the memory of the nightmare. Someone wraps their arms around her, drawing her closer to them. She makes herself smaller, knuckles whitening as she clutches the blanket. She inhales the familiar scent of Phil and realises that he’s the one holding her.

“Phil,” she whispers. She’d killed him. She’d stuck her hand into his chest, right through the jagged scar from Loki’s sceptre. She had squeezed his heart, taking away the oxygenated blood it so desperately needed to just stay alive for one. More. _Second!_ Her breathing quickens and she rocks back and forth as if it will ease the pain of knowing she’d killed him.

She can never tell him. He can’t know. He doesn’t need to know that she doesn’t need the ring on her finger for her to attack them,

“It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe,” he murmurs, only loud enough for her ears, unaware of her thoughts. “I’ll stay here with you.

“Would you like pancakes?” Daisy asks. She’d forgotten that Melinda has nightmares. It’s only logical, really, that she does because who else could shoot a little girl and not have twisted dreams about it for the rest of their life. And especially with the whole Pierce fiasco, there’s bound to be some more recent dreams in the mix.

They don’t answer, too busy wrapped up in each other.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” Daisy says, and bounds off to find a recipe for pancakes.

“I’m sorry,” Melinda mumbles into Phil’s shirt. “I’m sorry.” She repeats it over and over again, like a mantra.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry,” he tries to say but she keeps on reiterating it, over and over until he realises she’s not apologising for her nightmare – she’s apologising for what _happened_ in her nightmare. “You didn’t have control of what was going on.”

She quietens after he says it again, but he knows she doesn’t believe him. Her eyes sting when she brushes her hands against them, wiping away the tears. She looks up briefly, catching Bobbi’s concerned gaze. She breaks eye contact immediately. She doesn’t want their sympathy or pity. She shouldn’t have it in the first place. They don’t seem to realise that she’s a monster, undeserving of the kindness they give to her. Save it for someone good. Someone like Lincoln, who made Daisy smile. Someone like Audrey, who gave Phil the life he always wanted but she could never give him. And Rosalind, who gave him a fleeting shot at that family life again – a white picket fence and a son to play catch with.

Not her. She who left him behind in Russia, unsure of whether she’d come back for him again. She who murdered a little girl in cold blood in Bahrain. She who lied to him for days on end about how he really died, seeing him in agony but never once telling him that he was okay, he wasn’t going insane. She who shot him, the one thing she’d thought she could never do. She who doesn’t tell him about all the times she has nightmares, even though he would comfort her if she would go to him.

She, with so much blood on her hands.

No. Not her.

But she can’t stop herself from curling into him. He hugs her tighter. He murmurs and then something into her hair but she can’t make it out. Instead, she burrows closer despite her brain telling her to move away.

Phil holds her tightly in his arms, wanting to take her away from all the pain she’s going through. “I’ll never let you go,” he whispers. “I love you.” He prays she doesn’t hear him. She probably doesn’t love him back. Probably. He hopes she does but that niggling bit of doubt at the back of his head stops him from confessing.

The smell of pancakes wafts through the air. There’s muttered cursing but Phil decides to ignore that and focus on how Daisy is making breakfast for everyone and has totally not just stuck a pancake to the roof in a giggling attempt to be like a real chef.

Melinda manages a choked laugh, pushing away from him with red eyes. “I’m fine,” she mutters.

He almost snorts. She’s quite clearly not okay. He pulls her in for another hug, not expecting her to shove him away quite so hard. He falls back on his butt, latching onto something to try to keep him stable. It just so happens that he happens to grab hold of her wrist. They go tumbling to the floor. He smacks his head on the coffee table but that’s not important right now. What _is_ important, is that he can see red prints on his shirt.

She’s sitting in his lap, hands on his shoulders to keep from falling any further forward. Her eyes are wide, mouth slightly open.

He sits up slightly, resting his back against the coffee table and putting his knees up so she can lean back against them. He takes her hand gently and brushes his thumb over the wounds.

“I thought you got Jemma to stitch these up,” he says, frowning.

She makes a face, shifting so her legs are stretched out either side of him and leans back against his knees. “More like forced,” she grumbles.

“Still.” He brings them to his lips and kisses both her knuckles. “There. All better now.”

She stares at him. How old does he think she is?

“So do you two lovebirds want us to clear out or what?” Daisy calls, mouth stuffed with a pancake.

They look over and see her holding her phone up. The flash goes off seven times in a row. She narrows her eyes as Daisy clicks the button again.

“Delete those,” Phil says, trying to be stern.

“No way,” Daisy grins. “Blackmail, lovebirds.”

Melinda coughs pointedly, giving Daisy a dark look. Daisy pales.

“I’ll just delete them now, then,” Daisy mumbles, tapping at her phone.

Phil sighs. There is no way Daisy just deleted them like that. “What happened there?” he asks.

Melinda smirks. “Daisy happens to be ticklish.”

Phil frowns in confusion. “And? That sounds like a fair fight to me.”

“How is it fair!?” Daisy complains.

Melinda covers Phil’s mouth with her hand. “It’s not. He’s being mean.”

Phil grabs her wrists and forcibly removes her hands from his mouth. “I’m not. Promise.”

Daisy gives them a confused look and turns back to her pancakes. “Okay?” She gives them one last look and turns around again before the image registers in her brain. “Oh my god.”

Melinda and Phil wrestle on the carpet, skinning their elbows.

“Are they five years old?” she asks.

“Apparently so,” Bobbi answers, a small smile on her lips as she watches her friends grapple for the upper hand.

“Hey!” Phil yelps, dodging a fist to the face. “How could you do that?” he teases, trying to be stern.

_How could you?_

The words echo in her head like a mantra. She crumples, falling bonelessly to the floor. She wants to get up and go and hide in her bunk but she can’t. Phil stops trying to pin her, kneeling over her form and wishing that right now, more than ever, he could go back in time and fix everything.

He’s no time wish further because then the alarms start blaring. The base starts to go into lockdown mode, red alarms flashing on and off. Daisy’s already out the door, Bobbi right behind her by the time Phil scoops Melinda up and helps her shuffle towards the door.

They don’t make it more than three metres before Melinda freezes. Phil glances up in confusion. His eyes narrow.

“You _bastard_ ,” he snarls, lips pulling back, baring his teeth. He lets go of Melinda, storming towards the man who ruined everything. Ward pulls a gun out but that doesn’t stop him. “How could you do this? I took you in. We _cared about you, Ward._ And you went and betrayed _all of us_.” He takes a step closer, the barrel of the gun brushing against his creased shirt.

“Phil,” Melinda whispers. “Don’t.”

“Listen to your girlfriend,” Ward smirks.

Phil looks back at her, a concerned expression on his face. He steps back and Ward pushes forward. Melinda swallows bile. There is only one way he would have known how to get in. She must have told him. Her stomach twists violently at the thought of Ward killing her friends.

 _Friends_.

She hadn’t thought she’d be using that word ever. Not after what she’s done. But they are her friends. Whether she likes it or not. She hopes they’ll have the common sense to get rid of her after this. Lock her up somewhere far away from them. Where she can’t hurt them. Assuming they survive this. Her heart stops for a second as that terrifying thought enters her mind.

She steps forward, ready to take whatever Ward throws at her when Phil catches her wrist, pulling her back. She shakes him free, frowning. It’s the least she can do. Stopping Ward won’t redeem herself in her eyes, but it will help.

“Phil,” she says and she knows he can hear the warning in her voice. If he doesn’t let go _right now_ , he’s going to regret it. Then she winces because she refuses to hurt him again. She steps down, backs away.

“Good girl,” Ward mocks.

She glares at him, wishing Phil weren’t here so she could let loose. She doesn’t want to show Phil her darker side, the side that longs for the fight. The side that will kill Ward if Phil doesn’t need answers so desperately. The side that she can never let out.

“Turn around,” Ward orders, gesturing with his gun.

Phil lets out a small sigh but does as Ward says. Melinda can’t bring herself to listen, though.

“Melinda,” Ward warns. “I would think about your actions very carefully if I were you.”

“Good thing you aren’t me then,” she spits, taking a step forward.

Ward doesn’t hesitate. Melinda stumbles as the bullet pushes through her skin, entering just above her hip.

“May!” Coulson bursts out, an arm coming to rest on her shoulder. He presses a hand against the wound in an attempt to stem the blood flow.

“Leave her or I’ll shoot again,” Ward says coldly.

Melinda believes him. She has no desire to get shot at again so she pulls away from Phil.

“Start walking,” comes the order from behind.

Melinda has no doubt that he’ll shoot them as soon as they aren’t looking at him but she turns around and walks anyway, ignoring everything she’s ever been taught. Her body is screaming at her to pummel the little rat, beat him until he’s bloody. But she doesn’t. She sets a quick pace, ignoring the pain in her hip and marches through the corridors until he tells her to stop. Phil’s right behind her. She doesn’t stop immediately, taking a few extra steps simply to annoy him. She locks eyes with her teammates who are standing at the end of the corridor, weapons aimed at Ward.

Daisy smirks at Ward. “Pity you didn’t stay out of the cameras.”

Ward just shrugs. “Shoot me and I’ll shoot them.” He takes a step closer to Melinda and grabs her. His arm comes up around her throat, choking her. She gags, flinging her own arms up to tear his eyes. He laughs, aiming the gun at Coulson and she stills.

“Behave,” he says calmly.

She wants to rip out his vocal cords but she can’t risk Phil’s life. He backs away as Ward gestures at him to get away. When he’s a good ten metres away, Ward starts walking away, dragging Melinda with him. He keeps the gun pressed against her head. She almost snorts. As if that’s going to stop her. If she dies, at least she’ll know she tried to stop him.

She doesn’t manage to pluck his eyes out, but she does succeed in escaping. She’s well aware that it’s a stupid move to tackle him, especially when he has a gun and she’s weaponless and injured. Even though, she barrels into him. He presses the gun against her body as they fall and pulls the trigger. Several bullets enter her shoulder before she grabs his right wrist and dislocates it. He doesn’t drop the gun. No, he’s too well trained to do that. He does, however, bring his head up and smash his forehead against her nose.

She groans, grimacing as the world spins. Blood drips from her nose onto his shirt. In the few seconds she’s not properly focusing, he pins her, trapping her on her stomach.

“If you shoot me, I’ll blow her brains out,” he snarls.

Melinda writhes in protests. She frees her arms and elbows his side as best she can. He grunts, sliding higher up her back. His knees trap her arms, pushing her elbows onto the cold, solid concrete.

She kicks him in the back, barely touching him. He growls. Her teammates approach cautiously, guns aimed at his head and torso. Ward moves the gun lower and shoots. She lets out a strangled gasp as she feels blood spill out of her left arm.

Her team freezes.

“Drop your weapons,” Ward says, sounding more authoritative now that he’s fully in control.

There’s silence for a moment, as they hesitate. Melinda wishes they’d just shoot him and get it over with. Then there’s a loud clatter as guns fall to the floor. Ward raises his eyebrows, waiting. With a low growl, Bobbi kicks the guns down the corridor, where they can’t reach them without being shot first.

“Good,” he says. He keeps a loose eye on them, making sure the gun is still pressed against Melinda’s head as he drags her up. “Now, I want all of you to walk towards your bunks and lock yourself in. If you don’t, I’ll simply shoot dear Melinda here.”

Melinda presses a hand against her shoulder in an attempt to keep the blood in. If they aren’t going to shoot him, she’ll need to be as ready as possible. Fainting won’t do her any good.

Her team doesn’t move.

She makes eye contact with Bobbi and she nods. Bobbi turns to walk towards her bunk and Melinda sags in Ward’s arms, making him catch her. At the same time, Bobbi leaps for the guns, grabbing one and shooting at Ward. He ducks, swearing. Melinda kicks him in the face and twists out of his grip. A bullet whizzes past her leg, scraping the skin off. She winces. Payback. She can’t say she minds.

Ward growls. He lunges at her, landing on top of her. The breath leaves her body with a gasp. For a minute, she can see the walls of her mind crowding around her, crushing her. She lets out a choked scream, flailing wildly. Slowly, her senses return to her.

Ward grins down at her as her eyes uncloud and she realises where she is. “So,” he muses, “You didn’t leave unscarred after all.”

She rears up at him, teeth snapping at him. He jerks back, his head hitting the barrel of Bobbi’s gun. He freezes before wrapping his fingers around his own gun. Melinda grabs the gun, aiming it away from her team.

“Drop it,” Bobbi barks.

Ward pauses. Then he lets go.

“Stand up.”

Ward stands, a knowing smirk gracing his face.

“You must have known there were more of us than you,” Coulson says, frowning. “Why did you come alone?”

Ward stays silent.

“Where’s the rest of you?” Hunter asks, turning around in a slow circle, pulling another gun from his pocket.

Ward laughs. “All around you.” His eyes light up, a storm of maliciousness swirling inside.

The lights flicker off, leaving them in darkness. Melinda hears footsteps thudding towards them. She pulls herself up to a standing position and swings her fists at a dark shape approaching her. There’s muffled cursing. She smiles grimly but before she can attack her next target, someone wraps their arms around her from behind, trapping her arms to her sides. She’s lifted off the ground. Kicking behind her, she makes contact with the person’s knee. The person yelps and hisses at someone to help. Her legs are crushed between someone’s arms and no matter how much she struggles, she can’t break free.

A few minutes later, when she’s given up on squirming free and is now trying to pull her legs out of the second person’s grip, the lights snap back on with such intensity that she’s blinded for a second.

When her eyes get used to the bright light, she sees her team in varying states of distress. Fitz and Simmons are both on their knees, guns at their heads. Bobbi and Hunter are surrounded by fallen Hydra agents. Mack is currently acquainting a Hydra agent’s head with the brick wall. Coulson sends a Hydra agent to the ground with a solid blow and then looks around.

Melinda renews her efforts to get free, but it does no good. She spares a quick glance around, looking for Ward and spots him leaning against the wall, watching amusedly. Despite the number of fallen Hydra agents, there’s still more. She can hear the shouts of more SHIELD agents running into Hydra agents. Gunshots ring out amid the noise.

“Well, well, well,” Ward grins, pushing himself off the wall. “Looks like we have prisoners. Hands in the air where I can see them.”

Reluctantly, her team raises their hands, glaring at their former friend.

“And Melinda,” he adds, “If you want your friends to live, you’ll stop trying to escape.”

Melinda hisses a curse at him but lets herself go limp. Her shoulder aches and whoever’s restraining her is poking her wounded arm. Her legs are set free and she drops back down to the ground, the movement sending a spike of pain through her hip.

She almost tells them they aren’t her friends, she doesn’t deserve them, but she stops herself. That would only be giving him a weakness for him to play with. She shudders to imagine what he could do with it. He’d probably tear her down, break through all her barriers and leave her a crumpled mess.

“Put them in Vault D,” Ward tells the Hydra agents. His small smirk tells them he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Round up any other stragglers and lock them in–”

He’s cut off by a whoosh. Before he can even blink, the gun in his hand is gone. He looks around in confusion. His gaze zeroes in on Elena who’s holding his gun, dangling it from her hand. The rest of his agent’s guns are in a pile at her feet.

“Looks like the tables have turned, huh?” Daisy mocks.

Ward scowls at her. “Just you wait,” he promises. “One day, you’ll regret not joining Hydra.”

“Maybe,” Melinda says lightly, “But today is not that day.”

The guy holding her squeezes her throat tighter and she gags. She can’t reach his eyes, but he’s left his groin unprotected. He doubles over with a yelp, dropping her. She admits there’s not much dignity in face-planting, but she gives it her best shot. She lets out a quiet curse when she twists her shoulder too far back. Fresh blood flows out, staining her jacket. She wishes she was wearing a t-shirt instead of a tank top so that she could at least try to hide the bullet holes. Simmons will be able to see immediately the damage done when she takes it off.

“Right,” Coulson says, taking charge. “Ward, get your sorry ass to Vault D.” He turns to the rest of the Hydra agents. “The rest of you are being transported elsewhere.” To Daisy: “Take them to the quinjet and get Davis to fly them to the Fridge.” He gives Elena a glance and she nods, understanding. Two seconds later, the Hydra agents are staring at their shackled wrists.

Daisy and Mack, with the help of their guns, force the Hydra agents towards the quinjet. There’s some resistance, but a demonstration of Daisy’s powers has them falling into line obediently.

Coulson snaps a pair of handcuffs around Ward’s wrists and shoves him roughly in the direction of Vault D. The two men disappear around the corner, footsteps fading away as they get further away.

Simmons’ eyes narrow when she sees Melinda walking away. “Stop right there,” she calls out. She sees Melinda hesitate and hopes that she’ll turn around. She doesn’t.

Melinda doesn’t want to disappoint Simmons, but there are probably other people who need taking care of. She can fix herself up. She’s perfectly fine. She was only shot a couple times. Her brain supplies a _yeah right_ as a twinge of pain from her hip has her stumbling.

“ _Melinda_.” Simmons doesn’t sound like she’s playing around. “If you’re going anywhere, it’s to go to the Med Bay.”

Melinda keeps limping towards the bathroom despite the pain. If she goes to the Med Bay, Simmons will knock her out. She _hates_ being drugged. Every single time, she does or says something embarrassing.

And anyway, she hurt them. This pain won’t make up for all of it, but it will help ease her conscience tonight.

Angry footsteps follow her all the way to the bathroom. She tries to use her injured shoulder to open the door and regrets it instantly. A wave of pain washes over and she lets out a quiet curse.

“Melinda,” Simmons pleads, “Let me help. Just please come to the Med Bay.”

“ _No_ ,” Melinda says forcefully. She leans against the wall in front of the mirror and pulls her tank top up, revealing the small hole in her hip. Blood coats the skin around it. There’s no exit wound. She sighs, realising she’s going to have to go to the Med Bay to get sterile tweezers and disinfectant.

“C’mon,” Simmons says, wrapping an arm around Melinda’s shoulders, taking some of her weight.

Melinda wants to say some very bad words but she restrains herself, keeping her tongue in check. If she hurts Simmons again, she’ll never forgive herself. They make their way to the Med Bay slowly. Daisy stumbles across them on her way back from the quinjet. The prisoners had been secured and on their way to the Fridge.

“Hey, guys,” she grins. She sees the blood on Melinda’s hip, still visible from where the tank top is pulled up, and her expression morphs into worry. “Ouch. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Melinda snaps.

Daisy backs away and Melinda curses herself. Daisy’s done nothing wrong.

“No, you aren’t,” Simmons snaps back. “You have at least five bullets in your shoulder and you’re limping.”

Melinda mutters something unpleasant under her breath.

They reach the Med Bay and Daisy helps Melinda onto the bed, much to her disgust. Simmons gathers her supplies and comes back to stand beside Melinda.

“Do you want to take pain medication?” Simmons asks, already knowing the answer.

Melinda shakes her head. She gave them so much pain. The least she can do is make up for it. Simmons mumbles something.

“Can you take off your jacket and lay down please?” Simmons asks.

Melinda scowls but she listens, shrugging off her jacket, wincing at the pain, and lays down reluctantly.

“Thank you,” Simmons says softly. “Are you sure you don’t want any meds?”

Melinda nods sharply. She needs to feel it. If she can’t feel it, then she isn’t paying for what she’s done. Not in her mind.

“Okay.” Simmons sounds unsure but she doesn’t try and force her to take it. “Well, if you change your mind…”

“I won't.” She’ll go unconscious first. And it’s only a couple of bullets, nothing to worry about.

Simmons begins, poking her tweezers gently into the hole. Or, as gently as she can. Melinda stares at the ceiling, clenching her fists when Simmons pulls the bullet out. The needle that digs into her skin and stitches up her wound makes her let out a hiss. Simmons pauses but doesn’t ask again.

When Simmons is finished with her hip, Melinda’s floating on the pain peacefully. Simmons’s voice bursts her bubble and she blinks, looking up at the biochemist.

“I’m going to give you a general anaesthetic, okay?” Simmons rummages around in the cabinet behind her. “Your shoulder is much worse and I don’t want you to be in pain for much longer.”

“ _No_ ,” Melinda growls. “I don’t want it.”

Simmons sighs. “Why not? I need a good reason to convince me.”

Melinda remains silent, mulling it over. Simmons isn’t going to agree with her. In fact, she’ll probably call a team bonding session.

“Melinda? Have you got a reason?” Simmons asks.

“I don’t want it,” she repeats. “You can’t give it to me without my consent.”

Simmons looks torn, wanting to ease Melinda’s pain but also not wanting to break Melinda’s trust. “Please, Melinda. It’ll help you.”

“And you’ll forgive me if I take it?” Melinda asks quietly. Her eyes widen in horror. She hadn’t meant to say that.

Simmons frowns. “Forgive you for what?”

“Can I go, please?” Melinda asks, closing her eyes shut, wishing she was anywhere but here.

“What? No, don’t be ridiculous,” Simmons says sharply. “If you don’t have a reason I’m going to put you under. I’m not trying to be cruel, I just don’t want to see you in pain.”

She doesn’t want to hear another word. She’s sick and tired of her team telling her this. _I just want to help you_. She goes to sit up but Simmons isn’t letting her go this easily. A firm hand rests on her arm and Melinda stops, leaning back on her elbows. The pain feels good. It makes her feel alive again, like she can do anything at all. Then she feels a stab in her arm and she has enough time to fall back onto the bed before the world goes dark.


End file.
